


A Disarranged World

by MarmeLady_Orange



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Bit of Fluff & Angst, Adoption, Alternate Season/Series 09, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, F/M, Fake Marriage, M/M, Major Character Death(s) (Temporary), Minor Character Death(s), Prostitutes, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 116,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarmeLady_Orange/pseuds/MarmeLady_Orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months after the Fall, Sam recuperates – the natural way – at the bunker while Dean hunts alongside a very human Castiel. While investigating a bizarre case involving children in Minnesota, they meet a six-year-old foster girl who turns out to be sought after by both angels and demons. Trying to help the world find a balance again is hard enough, but adding an adopted daughter in dire need of protection and a budding relationship to the mix might just make things a tad more difficult for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is… my first DCBB, and hopefully not my last. This is about only 5% compliant with Season 9 so... I won’t say what is NOT happening (in case you still haven’t seen S9), but those who saw it? Yeah… you’ll know what the 5% is when you read it!
> 
> I have to thank my super Beta [outofminutes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/outofminutes/pseuds/outofminutes) for keeping up with me and doing such a wonderful job. It was not a small thing to read and for that, I’ll be forever grateful. I feel just so very lucky to have met her, and not only as a beta but as a delightful human being. Please check out her own DCBB that comes out tomorrow... what I've read so far was just delicious and I can't wait to read the finished story.
> 
> Of course, I also have to thank my talented artist Sanwall... You can all see the beautiful artwork she did for this piece while you read the fic, or you can follow this [LINK](http://sanwall.livejournal.com/2149.html) to see them all at once. She’s such a sweetheart and I am glad and honoured that she picked my story. Be sure to tell her how you love her art! 
> 
> This is the biggest writing project I've ever tackled. It was equally stressful and exhilarating. And now that I am sending it out into the world, I'm not sure how I feel... apart from incredibly nervous. My only wish is that you will find my story at least a little bit entertaining.
> 
> Until next time… xx

~ ◊ ~

 

While a mournful Castiel was watching his brethren being ejected from Heaven, Dean was observing the same phenomenon, his dying brother in his arms.

So Dean had prayed for Castiel, not knowing that his friend had been stripped of his grace, desperately calling and cursing as to why the one who promised he’d always be there suddenly wasn’t coming to him.

Maybe the angel was now stuck in Heaven.

Maybe he had fallen and died like countless others.

But with Sammy dying, he couldn’t spend much time thinking about all the possibilities. So he loaded the now unconscious Winchester in the Impala and drove as fast as possible to the nearest hospital.

Sam was comatose for about four days. Castiel was able to call Dean’s cell phone on the second day and made it to the hospital on the third. And when Sam came to, it took another three weeks for him to be able to leave the hospital he was in such a bad shape.

Well…

He wasn’t so much allowed to leave as the three men decided it was time to go back to the bunker. To make Sam’s return home even more special, Castiel’s first driving experience was with a small van packed with _borrowed_ medical equipment and supplies. Which, ironically enough, became one of Castiel’s proudest human moments to date.

It had been a slow recovery for Sam. The trials had left him skeletal, his rosy skin now sallow. Not being able to keep any food down was certainly not helping him get some meat back on his bones. So for more than a month he had to sustain himself on protein shakes and other types of liquid food.

It had been like taking care of a baby, introducing not solid foods but puréed offerings, which Sam would often chuck back up. But they kept trying, adding powdered proteins to help rebuild his muscle mass, making him walk and exercise as much as he was able.

After two and a half months, Sam was almost back to normal. Almost.

He was still having problems keeping food down but he was getting better everyday. He was also more and more solid on his feet, capable of having a mostly normal day of moving around in the bunker.

While Sam was getting better under Kevin’s watchful eye, Dean had started bringing Castiel on hunts because, of course, everything was still the same out there. There were still monsters and now there were also angels to look out for. They had been lucky enough not to encounter any of them so far but they knew it would have to happen at some point.

It took eleven weeks for the first angel to make himself known to them. It was late in the evening, Dean and Cas had just come back from a hunt, and they were sitting in the library with Kevin. Even Sam had wanted to get up and join them, arguing he didn’t want to get bedsores.

Then Kevin, ever so helpful, went to get beers for everyone. And a cup of tea for Sam since alcohol didn’t mix well with his meds. So basically, it was a night like any other night.

That was until they heard Kevin’s scream and the bottles he was transporting crash on the floor. There was also a second crashing sound, a different one, most probably caused by Sam’s ceramic mug. Then followed a muffled thump which had to have been the prophet’s own body.

Castiel was the first one to get to their friend, sword in hand. Over Kevin’s lifeless body stood a scrawny stranger, also armed with an angel sword. Expertly and without a second thought, Castiel was able to stab the angel in his chest. While the murderous angel agonized, his grace seeping out of his wound, Dean and Sam collapsed on the floor next to Kevin and desperately tried to wake him up.

“Kevin… Kevin… Kevin,” both brothers were calling to him, to no avail.

“I am so sorry…” Castiel could only say, falling beside them and softly brushing the prophet’s hair away from his burnt eye sockets.

“But… how? How did that angel get in here?” Sam croaked, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Didn’t you ward the bunker, Cas? Tell me you didn’t forget! Please,” Dean pleaded before wiping the tears from his own face.

“No, of course not, but Metatron must have ways… he was clearly able to send the angel here,” Castiel had to admit, his own eyes shining with tears. “I… I should have known… he’s too powerful,” he finally said, unable to keep the tears from spilling.

They stayed on the floor with the prophet, mourning the loss of him, before going outside to erect a pyre. They owed it to the young man to give him a proper hunter’s funeral.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t ask Castiel to pronounce any kind of blessing.

What they did was to retreat inside their own minds and send their personal goodbyes out to their friend. Both as prayers and promises.

They should have known this was only the beginning…


	2. Meeting the Future

Castiel looks at Dean from the passenger seat of the Impala, trying his best to mimic Sam’s best sad puppy eyes.

“Come on, Cas! You’re not even close,” Dean laughs. “There’s no getting out of this.”

“I don’t want to go!”

“You big baby! It’s just a school.”

“I know it’s a school. And it is filled with children, whom I find very difficult to understand. I’d rather stay in the car and wait for you.”

“Cas, if you’re gonna be a hunter, you’ll need to interact with kids at some point.”

Castiel crosses his arms on his chest and huffs. Since the puppy eyes weren’t working, he decides to give pouting a try.

“I knew I should have brought Sam instead,” Dean mutters.

“Sam is still not fit to take the road, you know that. But it is nice to know where that leaves me in the future.”

Because they’re in the car, Dean can’t very well throw his arms in the air in an exasperated manner. Instead, he just goes for a dramatic eye roll and a deep groan.

“Come on, Cas! What’s happening to you? Did you start growing lady parts when you fell or what?”

“What? No, my vessel has not transformed into a fem—”

“I was just… forget it, man! What’s your problem with kids anyway?”

“I don’t know… I didn’t mind them when I was an angel because I could read their minds. But now I can’t and I find them to be rather… unpredictable. And grabby.”

“Nobody’s predictable.”

“Maybe not, but with adults you can fight them off when they come at you. It is my understanding that you cannot do the same with children.”

“No, you’re right, you better not try and fight kids. I’ll tell you what… we’ll both go in and if we get to talk to the little ones, I’ll handle it on my own, all right?”

“But…”

“And if they try to jump you, I’ll take care of them.”

Castiel’s shoulders seem to loosen up a bit, which pulls another laugh from Dean.

“You know if they come to you, they probably just wanna play or hug you, right?”

“It may be so, but I still find it uncomfortable,” Castiel replies, somewhat horrified.

Dean is still laughing, to the ex-angel’s displeasure, when they reach the school’s entrance.

~ ◊ ~

“So Miss Solomon, how would you describe Principal Hudson? Had he always been weird around the kids or was this a new thing?” Dean unceremoniously asks the petite, gray-haired secretary.

“Oh no. He has always been proper and was well liked by everyone, the teachers and the students all the same. It’s like he just… changed. He came in one morning and ordered that all the kids from kindergarten to third grade be gathered in the gym. I think he said something about a possible outbreak, or poison gas. Why it was only the younger ones, I don’t know. But then he just barricaded himself and Mrs. Ross with the kids in there. Frankly, I didn’t really pay attention you know, I’m not—”

“And how about Mrs. Ross? We were told that she hasn’t been the school’s nurse for long?” Castiel cuts her off, preferring to move things along. He ignores the purse in Dean’s lips, knowing full well that the hunter hates when Castiel interrupts the witnesses.

“Well it was her first year with us and she has been here since September. So, something like seven months. She was a real peach, you know? But then she seemed to just snap, like Mr. Hudson did. Oh Dear Lord! I hope it was nothing contagious now, was it?”

“No, Miss Solomon, I doubt it was anything like that,” comforts Dean with a reassuring smile. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary on that day? Besides the change in your co-workers?”

“Well, it happened last week after all. But no, I don’t recall anything peculiar happening.”

“No flickering lights, or weird smells? Sudden drops of temperature?”

“What? I… The police certainly didn’t ask me questions like these. What is it that you do again?”

“Don’t you worry, ma’am—” starts Castiel.

“ _Miss_!”

“I apologize, _Miss_ Solomon. Don’t you worry; we are only here to assist the police with this case. We specialize in providing alternative methods of investigation.”

“If you think of anything that could be dubbed as weird, or if anything happens that you think could be of interest, please do not hesitate to contact us,” Dean adds, giving the older woman a card with his contact information.

“Oh… all right. Thank you, Agents,” she replies, eyeing them now a bit warily.

The hunters leave the secretary’s office and walk towards their next interview. They’ll need to be real smooth with Mrs. Lynn, the school counsellor, if they want to convince her they need to talk to some of the kids.

“So, what do you think so far?” Castiel asks his friend in hushed tones.

“I don’t know. It’s probably not ghosts; the EMF hasn’t made a peep. But the principal and the nurse taking single bites out of the kids? I can’t even start to try and explain it. It sounds like something out of a zombie flick.”

“I don’t think it’s zombies, Dean.”

“No, I know that. There’s always demonic possession but… no sulphur?”

“It has been four days. If there was any sulphur left behind, it could have dissipated or been cleaned off since then. But why would demons go into schools and bite kids?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. We need to talk to the kids. One of them has to have seen something.”

They finally get to the counsellor’s office, at the other end of the school. The door is ajar and Dean knocks lightly before peaking his head inside.

“Mrs. Lynn?”

“She’s with Thomas,” a small voice answers him.

On the other side of the door is a waiting room with another door that must lead to the counsellor’s actual office. On one of the chairs aligned against the wall sits a little girl with clear amber eyes and light brown hair. She smiles at Dean when he enters the room, then at Castiel who immediately follows.

“Do you know if she’ll be with Thomas for a long time?” Dean asks, giving the girl his ever-popular kid friendly grin.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “It’ll be my turn next but you can go, I’ll wait.”

“You’re not in a hurry to meet with her, right?” Dean says with a wink.

“I don’t mind. I like Mrs. Lynn. But you have work to do,” the little girl offers with a smile.

“You’re a smart girl, we do have work to do. I promise we’ll make it quick.”

“I don’t think she’ll want you to talk to us though.”

“What?” sputters Dean, surprised.

“She wants to protect us, but she can’t. That’s ok ’cause you will, right?”

Castiel, who has only been observing so far, approaches the girl and crouches in front of the chair to look her in the eyes. She lets her gaze lock onto his and they observe each other for what seems far too long for any grown man to be staring at a little girl. Dean is just about to tell him to leave her alone when the ex-angel speaks.

“What’s your name, child?”

“Beth.”

“Nice to meet you, Beth. I’m Ca… Agent Barrett and this is Agent Waters. How old are you?”

“I’m six.”

“How do you know we want to talk to the children? You heard us talking in the hall?”

“No. You’re here because of what Principal Hudson and Nurse Ross did, right?”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No. I wasn’t here. I told Mama Patty I had a tummy ache.”

“Gentlemen, how can I help you?” a thunderous voice suddenly echoes in the small room.

The office door is now open and in its frame are standing a young ginger boy and a blonde matronly looking woman. And she does not look happy. Castiel quickly stands up while Dean walks towards her, his right hand extended.

“Mrs. Lynn, I presume. Agents Waters and Barrett from the FBI, if we may have a word with you.”

“Were you just questioning that child?”

“What? Of course not. My partner was only making conversation.”

“Beth, is this true?” she asks without letting her stare wander off the men.

“Yes, Mrs. Lynn, it is. He asked my name, and how old I was, and I also know their names but I don’t know how old they are,” she replies, innocent.

“We will only take a moment of your time, Mrs. Lynn. Please?” pleads Dean with his most seductive smile.

“Fine. Thomas, you can go back to class now. I’ll be back for you real soon, Beth. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Okay.”

Both men follow the counsellor into the small room that is her office, but Castiel can’t resist turning around to look at Beth one more time. He is startled by what he sees in her golden stare, not that he understands any of it. She seems to be the exact opposite of everything he thought a child should be. Even worse, he feels somehow connected to her and it perplexes him. He’s hoping he’ll get to talk to her again soon.

~ ◊ ~

“Well, that was a waste of everybody’s time,” Dean spits once they’re back in the Impala, loosening his tie and undoing the first button of his shirt.

“Indeed. We didn’t learn much.”

“It would have been so simple to talk to the kids. But no, now we have to go through the fucking parents. I swear that woman just wanted to mess with us.”

“It’s her job to protect the children, Dean.”

“We’re FBI, that’s what we do!”

“Well… we’re not really FBI.”

“She certainly doesn’t know that.”

“We have the names and numbers of the parents whose kids were bitten, we’ll call to see if we can meet with them. It’s just a minor setback.”

“Yeah. Now, we should go to the sheriff’s department, see what they might have to say. Then I’d like to talk to the principal and nurse.”

“Didn’t you say they don’t even remember any of it happening?”

“But they could be lying. Anyway, they’re the only surviving perps. We have to start somewhere.”

“Of course.”

“Off to the Sheriff’s we go.”

After taking a last look at the map on his phone, Dean starts the car to head to their destination. In the passenger seat, Castiel reads through the list of names the counsellor reluctantly gave them.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“I think there’s a name missing; we’ll need to contact Mrs. Lynn again.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I don’t see Beth’s name anywhere.”

“Beth? Who’s… ah yeah, that little girl in the waiting room. Didn’t she say she wasn’t even in school that day?”

“Yes, but—”

“How can she help if she wasn’t there? She obviously didn’t see a thing. We’ll have a whole lot more to see if we can get into the other schools, Cas.”

“Didn’t you find her odd?”

“No more than any other kid.”

“I found her odd.”

“Well, according to you kids are Hell beasts, so…”

“There’s something about this one, Dean. She’s different. She said she had a tummy ache that day.”

“That’s what kids do, Cas. They get tummy aches.”

“She didn’t say she _had_ one. She said she _said_ she had one.”

“Oh for the love… Cas, she’s just a kid, all right? Kids say the darndest things,” Dean says with a teasing smile. “We’re here,” he adds, pulling up in the parking lot of a modern brick building. Thankfully, the Beth discussion dies as soon as Baby’s engine is cut-off.

_“Small victories,”_ thinks Dean to himself, relieved.

~ ◊ ~

Sheriff Kalyn Studwick is a tall and curvy woman; so much so that Dean forgets for a second that he has a job to do, but only for a second. His trained eye takes in her dark hair tied in a low bun and her piercing gray eyes before he offers his hand with a smile that he knows is a little bit too much on the leering side. What else could he do; she’s a beautiful woman.

“Sheriff Studwick, I’m agent Waters. This is my partner, Agent Barrett,” he says, showing the badge in his left hand.

“Waters and Barrett, huh? Your boss certainly has a wicked sense of humour to pair the two of you up,” she says, squinting her eyes.

“Why—” starts Castiel.

“You’d think that but I really think it was an accident. I guess it was just meant to be,” dismisses Dean, an even bigger smile on his face. _“She knows her classics,”_ he thinks. _“Awesome!”_

“If you say so. Tell me then, how can I help you?”

“Well, like we’ve discussed over the phone yesterday, we’d like to talk to the Washington Elementary School’s principal and nurse about what happened. Are they still in custody here?”

“I am glad to say that no, they’re not. They’ve had a psych evaluation and guess what? They’ve been sent to the nuthouse. I’m not sure why you would want to talk to them though. It’s not like we don’t know what happened or who did it,” the sheriff says, her sharp stare going back and forth between the two agents.

“We’d like to try and shed some light on why this keeps happening. They’re the only surviving ones we’ve ever heard of. We’ve encountered similar situations before and we want to help you give the parents an explanation. I am sure they would appreciate that.”

“It’s happened before? Never heard about—”

“It was kept out of the press. Until New Ulm, that is,” Dean explains, giving the sheriff a pointed look. “You might imagine how this would be a sensitive matter.”

“I imagine it would be, yes,” the sheriff admits, not letting the agent to try and stare her down. “Still, I believe the authorities should have been informed. I had that same shit occur in three different schools last week. How do you want me to explain that?”

“I am aware of it all, Sheriff Studwick, and I am sorry. But that’s why we’re here. Please consider yourself informed now,” tries to tease Dean with a wink, hoping to make the tension in the room go down with shameless flirting. Which does not seem to work at all on the statuesque woman.

While Dean is trying to work his way into the sheriff’s good graces, Castiel observes the office’s decor. He finds it to be a bit too cluttered for his own taste, but he is newly human so he doesn’t have much possession to be cluttery with even if he wanted to. Again, he is confronted with children related artifacts, most of them uninteresting and primitive. That’s when he notices a picture, which he grabs without hesitation.

“Who’s this?” he asks a bit too forcefully, waving the frame in front of Sheriff Studwick.

“That’s my family, do you mind?” she spits, grabbing the wooden rectangle back.

“You are Beth’s mother?”

“Agent Barrett…” warns Dean.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not Beth’s mother. And how do you even know her?”

“I met her in school earlier. If you’re not her mother, then you must know who is. We would like to talk to her.”

“I’m sorry Sheriff Studwick, my partner is—”

“I am one of her _foster parents_ , if it’s all the same to you. And why would you like to talk to her? She wasn’t in school that day, she should not be involved in your investigation.”

“What’s a foster parent?” Cas asks Dean. “Is it like a regular parent?”

“Dude, we’re not talking to the kid, all right? Sheriff, I’m sorry, we only need to see the principal and the nurse. If you could just tell us to which hospital we can find them, it would be greatly appreciated.”

She purses her lips in a deep frown as she assesses the two of them. “Yeah, all right. But I can’t promise they will be in any shape to talk to you. Nevertheless, I’m counting on you to share any information you might obtain from them with me.”

“I give you my word. And again, thank you!”

~ ◊ ~

“So what did they say?” Sam asks, still sounding a little tired over the phone.

“Nothing much. They were high as fucking kites. The only moment we could get either of them to focus, they both said they didn’t remember a thing. Which makes no sense. You know how it goes; you’ve been possessed before. You remembered what Meg did, right?”

“I did… but maybe they just don’t want to remember.”

“Yeah… I don’t think I’d wanna remember taking bites out of little kids either.”

“Ew…” is all Sam can muster to say. “So, if it was a demon, maybe they made sure the principal and the nurse wouldn’t remember what they did, or why they did it.”

“Maybe…”

“So you’ll be talking to the kids tomorrow?” Sam pushes.

“Yeah, only a handful though. The parents were not so eager to have their child relive the trauma. We’ll meet them in the counsellor’s office.”

“Good. Frankly, I’m even surprised the kids are back in school so soon after this.”

“Well the monsters have been arrested. Nobody died. Not at that school anyway.”

“I guess… About those other schools, are you guys going there too?”

“Depends if we learn anything tomorrow. If not, we might wanna see more kids so we’ll need to go to the other schools, yes.”

“All right… Hum… So… How’s it going with Cas?” Sam asks, a little hesitant.

“Cas? It’s going great. As a human he can be a bit of a drama queen, but it’s not so bad,” Dean side steps.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… at first he didn’t wanna go inside the school ’cause the kids spooked him or some shit. And now he can’t shut up about that little girl we saw. I don’t know if he’s in love with her or—”

“Come on, Dean! That’s not right, even for you,” Sam cuts him off, his tone firm and a little bit on the judgmental side.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. But he’s insisting that we talk to her even though she wasn’t even there when the principal and the nurse went all Hannibal Lecter.”

“They didn’t eat the kids, Dean. And before you ask, Sam had me read the books, that’s how I know who Hannibal Lecter is,” berates Castiel as he’s coming out of the bathroom after his shower, only wearing an old pair of Dean’s pyjama pants.

“Hey Cas,” can be heard from the phone’s speaker.

“Hello Sam! How are you feeling?”

“Getting better each day, thanks.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Castiel responds with a smile, towelling his hair. “And yes, I still think we should talk to Beth even though she wasn’t present.”

“Give it up Cas, it won’t happen. And you heard the Sheriff, she wasn’t too keen on letting us speak with her anyway.”

“The Sheriff?” asks Sam.

“Yes. She says she is Beth’s foster parent.”

“Why do you want to talk with her so bad, Cas?”

“I honestly don’t know. But I feel like… like I know her or something. And I feel like she knows things, that she knows more than she’s letting on.”

“Castiel, I don’t want to be presumptuous here but… maybe you just liked the kid,” Sam provides, his tone a prudent one. “And since you’re human now, you might be getting this… need? Maybe you’d just like a kid of your own.”

“Come on, Sammy. You’re going with the biological clock thing?” Dean huffs with half a smirk.

“Biological clock thing? What’s that?” Castiel asks.

“That’s when a woman’s body starts urging her to have a kid before it’s too late,” explains Dean, now with a full grin on his face.

“You keep referring to me as a woman to mock me. Why is that Dean?”

“He does, doesn’t he?” interjects Sam.

“I don’t—”

“Just today you asked me if I grew lady parts when I fell, referred to me as a “drama queen” while talking to Sam and now you compare my interest in Beth with a woman’s need to bear children.”

“It was Sam who said—” Dean tries to protest.

“And he calls me bitch a lot… and Samantha…” offers Sam, obviously having a little too much fun.

“Well, neither of you is proving me wrong right now, are you? I’ll go take a shower while you _ladies_ just cry about how much of a brute I am. Better have left me some hot water, _princess_!”

“See, you just keep doing it,” Castiel deadpans, more amused than he’s letting on.

“Is there anything I can help you with on my end?” Sam asks the former angel when they’re done laughing at Dean’s expense.

“I don’t think so. Unless you wouldn’t mind trying to find out what’s going on with that child?”

“Cas, I have to admit, you seem to be overreaching a bit.”

“Look Sam, I might not be an angel anymore, but I think I am still intuitive enough. I’m telling you, something is going on with her, and I can feel it.”

“Okay. I don’t know what it is I could find that’ll help you convince Dean, but I’ll try. Tell me what you got.”

When Dean comes out of the bathroom, clean, refreshed, and overall in a better mood, he is greeted by a cold beer and an apologetic smile from the ex-angel. Without a word, he accepts the peace offering and flops on his bed, hoping it means the subject of whatever they were bickering about has been dropped forever. He’s not even sure what it was anymore. Was it the kid, or the teasing? Who cares! All he wants is a cold beer and a short night on a bad mattress.

“Dean?”

_“Of course, I can never have what I want,”_ he thinks, gritting his teeth and rolling his shoulders to soften the snap he feels in his bones. “Yeah?” he still answers before taking a long pull of his beer.

“How come you or your brother never had children?”

“Life on the road isn’t fit for kids, Cas.”

“Your father did it.”

“Yeah, and it sucked ass. Not that he knew any better, mind you. But mom did, that’s why she had gotten out of the life. The monsters still found her though, so even if I got out… hell, I tried with Lisa and Ben, and the monsters found me again anyway.”

“So, there goes to say that if you wanted kids, you might as well just have them. Whatever you do, you can’t escape it.” Castiel’s delivery is flat, the reasoning a logical one.

“Yeah, but it’s no life for a kid. I wouldn’t bring a child to this life, Cas. Not on purpose. Man, why all the questions?”

“Your brother’s comment about me maybe wanting kids made me think.”

“Is he right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just… that’s what Metatron told me to do, when he took my grace. He told me to go find a woman, have babies.”

“You could still do that, you know. You don’t _have_ to be a hunter. You could just go be a regular guy, get married and have a family.”

“Unless you and your brother don’t want me around, I’d rather stay. There’s still work to be done. My brethren need me.”

“You’ll always be a part of the Winchester family, Cas.” Dean smiles before gulping the last of his beer. “On that note, we might wanna go to sleep. Gotta get up early tomorrow,” he says before turning off the lamp between both their beds.

“Okay. Good night Dean.”

It takes awhile for Castiel to finally drift off to sleep, unable to think about anything but Beth. He can’t shake off the need to speak with her, the tremors under his skin reminding him of the grace that used to cling to every atom of his vessel and how the Host’s power would flow through him, giving him guidance.

He’s hoping Sam will find something about the child, anything that will give them – him – an excuse to go see her. He just has to.

~ ◊ ~

The sun hasn’t fully come up yet when Dean shakes Castiel out of his slumber.

“Time to get up, Cas! Big day ahead of us.”

“What time is it?”

“Late enough. There’s coffee and donuts on the table. And no, I’m not bringing you breakfast in bed,” he adds when he sees Castiel making a grabby hand motion.

“Fine. Guess I’ll get up then,” he mumbles, but no real intention accompanies the words.

“Get a move on, _princess_. I’d like to get back home today.”

“We’re on a case, Dean.”

“Yeah and if we’re lucky we’ll close it today. So, move your ass.”

“Did you hear from Sam?”

“Since yesterday? No, why?”

“I’ll check my phone,” Castiel replies, finally getting up, only to see that he doesn’t have anything from Sam on his phone either.

Castiel goes to the bathroom for his morning routine and to change again into his FBI attire. He’s back in the room, sipping on his coffee and munching on a glazed donut, when his phone starts ringing. Sam’s name appears on the screen.

“Hello Sam,” he answers brightly.

“Hi Cas! Did some research and… well there’s not much to say, sadly.”

“No?”

“Nope! Well, she’s got a sad back-story, but it doesn’t seem supernatural or anything. From what I could dig up, she was found on the steps of the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity in New Ulm, Minnesota, in September 2008. She was barely a week old. The church turned her over to child services and the authorities were never able to find her parents. She’s been in three different foster homes, the second being an abusive one. It says here she was neglected and beaten up but thankfully she didn’t stay there long. She’s been in her current place for almost 4 years now. The foster home she’s at is run by Sheriff Kalyn Studwick, whom you’ve met, and her partner Patricia Travis.”

“Dean never did explain, but I take that a foster home or foster parent is like some sort of surrogate?”

“Kind of, yeah. It’s usually until the kids get adopted or can be sent back to their parents, sort of a transitional home. It’s weird that she was never adopted though. Babies are usually what people look for the most,” Sam offers.

“Maybe she didn’t want to be,” Castiel muses quietly, lost in his own thoughts about the girl.

“It’s not like babies get to choose, Cas. So anyway, that’s all I got on the kid. Nothing weird except for the fact that apparently nobody knows where she came from.”

“You said she was found in September 2008? Do you know the date?”

“Let me see here… the 26th.”

“And she was about a week old? What does that tell you?”

“I don’t—”

“I brought Dean back on the 18th. Eight days before Beth was found.”

“Cas, I really think it’s a coincidence. Pretty sure a lot of kids were born around the 18th. Actually, they wrote down her birth date as the 20th.”

“But they can’t be sure. From what you’re telling me she—”

“Look, you might wanna consider that maybe she’s just a bright and cute kid and that you took a shine to her,” Sam interrupts him with his usual aplomb, still trying to soften the blow that Dean would certainly not hesitate to hammer down.

“Maybe. Okay, thank you, Sam. I appreciate it. See you later.”

“My pleasure, Cas. See you later.”

When they hang up, Castiel can feel Dean’s eyes on him. He turns to stare back, ready to defend himself for getting Sam involved in his obsession over Beth. Instead, he is surprised to see a smile on his friend’s face.

“It’s really important for you, isn’t it? Talking to that kid?”

Castiel just nods, unsure how else he could be responding at this point.

“Fine, then. Finish your coffee and we’ll go do our scheduled interviews at the school. Then we’ll try and see if we can convince the sheriff to let us meet with her kid.”

Which is, weirdly enough, much easier than either of them would ever have expected.

After spending the morning in the school counsellor’s office to chat with the eight children they had been permitted to see, they leave once more to get to the Sheriff’s Department.

Castiel knows at this point that Dean is only humouring him. Speaking with the kids hasn’t given them any new information. Nothing they could likely share with the sheriff anyway. The smaller kids were still pretty shaken up and hadn’t seen anything but the principal and nurse going around and biting everyone in no particular order.

Only one of the older kids said he saw black clouds come out of the two adults mouths when the janitor and the gym teacher were trying to break down the doors. Of course, nobody believed the boy when he tried to tell the police and apparently, all the other kids were too busy crying their eyes out to see anything remotely useful, but neither hunter minded.

They now know who had done it. They just need to know why.

“I wish I could say I was surprised to see you here,” the sheriff offers in greeting when they come into her office.

“Well, we’re still investigating,” Dean confirms.

“I still don’t think there’s much to investigate. But that’s not the reason I’m not surprised. Beth told me you’d be back. And I don’t know how the kid does it, but she’s always right.”

Dean turns to Castiel, surprised to find out that there mightbe something different with the kid after all. He can’t help but be impressed with his friend at this point.

“I don’t know why, but she wouldn’t shut up about you two yesterday at dinner. She pretty much begged Patty and I to let you see her. Is that why you’re here?”

“Indeed it is, sheriff. If you wouldn’t mind,” Cas replies in what only Dean can sense to be excitement from the angel. What the sheriff sees is probably just a mild interest, which is just as good in the hunter’s opinion.

“Can I ask you why?”

“I wish I knew,” Castiel offers openly. “When I met her in school yesterday, I could sense something different emanating from her. And you’ve now pretty much convinced me it might actually be true. Maybe she knows things about what’s going on. Or maybe she doesn’t. Just thought we could ask.”

“Look… I’m really not into all that hocus-pocus crap, but Patty is. She’s open-minded, and spiritual, where I’m mostly… pragmatic and logical. But the kid has said and done creepy stuff since she’s been with us. Like, predictions, you know? Do you believe in that shit, Agents?”

“Let’s just say we’ve seen things, Sheriff,” Dean only explains, his features open and honest. “We can’t really disclose any of it, but not much can surprise us anymore. And well, I think it’s safe to say that my partner here has a hell of a sixth sense,” he adds with a proud smile.

“Hmm… if you don’t mind though, I’d rather you leave Beth alone while she’s in school. Come by the house around seven? Homework, dinner and bath time will be done with, you’ll get to have some time with Beth before she has to go to bed,” she says, giving them a folded paper with her address scribbled on it.

“Thank you so much, Sheriff. We’ll see you tonight.”

Both men leave the station and they now have 6 hours to kill before being able to do their last interview.

“Hungry?” asks Dean, feeling a deep rumble in his belly.

“Yes… Burritos?”

“Fine with me.”

“And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you… for this!”

Dean turns to his friend and shrugs, a smile on his lips. Like he could ever deny this guy anything, really.

~ ◊ ~

The house is a nice one, a bit old but well taken care of. It sits close to Washington Park, surrounded by lots of mature trees. In the backyard is a kid’s real dreamland, complete with a jungle gym, swings and an impressive sandbox. If it wasn’t for the barbecue and patio set in the corner, you’d think that no adult was ever allowed back there.

The two men don’t even have time to reach the front door before it opens to reveal the sheriff, now dressed in civilian clothes. If she was beautiful before, now she’s just ridiculously gorgeous, her long dark hair flowing freely around her sun-kissed face.

“Agents, please come in,” she says, welcoming them inside. Seeing the row of shoes and boots lined on the floor, Dean takes his off while motioning Cas to do the same. He was not about to anger the sheriff in her own home.

“Oh, you could have kept those shoes on, agents, we gotta do the floors later anyway,” comes a soft voice. Next to the sheriff has appeared a short and plump redhead, her soft features lathered in a sea of freckles.

“Patricia, these are Agents Waters and Barrett. Gentlemen, this is Patricia Travis, my fiancée,” she beams, obviously more relaxed in her own environment.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Travis,” replies Dean, extending his right hand, before Castiel does the same.

“The pleasure’s all mine and please, call me Patricia. I’ve heard so much about you, it’s like I know you already,” she smiles, her whole demeanour genuinely warmer and more approachable than her partner’s.

“Don’t look at me, I had forgotten all about you,” shrugs the sheriff, seeing Dean’s confused look.

“Beth has been talking a lot about you. She likes you at lot. Especially you,” she explains, making sure Castiel knows she’s referring to him.

“She’s a special kid, isn’t she?” Castiel can only say, a bit baffled.

“She is. The people who’ll adopt her will need to be pretty special themselves.”

“Why? Don’t you want her to stay with you?” Castiel asks with his brows knitted in confusion.

“Oh, she’s welcome to stay with us as long as she needs to. But being a foster family means we get to help a lot of kids and, well, they usually have to go at some point. Frankly, I’d adopt them all but it’s just not possible.”

“How many children are living with you?” asks Dean, wondering why the house is so quiet.

“Right now, we have 5. Some are already in bed,” Patricia answers, proud to display that they are running such a tight ship.

“All right, I’ll go get Beth and we can go in the living room to talk.”

“Sheriff, if you don’t mind, I think it would be better if we were alone with her,” Castiel intervenes.

“And why is that?”

“I assure you, she’s perfectly safe with us. It’s just that sometimes a child might not be totally truthful with a parent present in the room,” Dean explains when he sees his friend struggling to find a suitable explanation.

“Kay, you know he’s right. They seem like good enough men, and we’ll be right here in the next room.”

“Fine,” the brunette breathes before leaving to go get the girl.

“Don’t worry about her. She acts all tough but in truth, she’s just a big koala bear.”

“I understand. My partner is the same,” Castiel replies, grinning at Dean.

“Am not… and you’re not being very professional.”

“Sorry! I was only making conversation.”

“That’s what the weather’s for,” Dean says with a short laugh.

Castiel doesn’t get to answer back as he feels a tiny hand grab his. Looking down, he sees Beth smiling at him. She’s holding Dean’s hand in a similar manner.

“Mama Patty, Mama Kay, can we go to my room? Pleaaaase?”

“No Beth, I’d rather you and the grown men go talk in the living room. Patty and I will stay in the kitchen.”

“But—”

“No buts, pumpkin. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask them to leave.”

“Okay. Come, let’s go to the living room.” Beth pouts, tugging on their hands.

She leads them to the loveseat the furthest away from the kitchen and makes sure they sit on it. There’s no space for her to sit with them but clearly, that’s how she wanted it because she takes place on a footstool in front of them. With her right forefinger, she motions for them to bring their faces closer to hers.

When she deems them close enough, she grabs one of their knees with each hand and speaks in a low voice, low enough that even if her foster moms try to they won’t hear a thing she tells them.

“Castiel, Dean, you have to get me out of here!”


	3. The Last Oracle

“How? What? Who the f… who are you?” sputters Dean, looking at the golden-eyed child with a bit of panic.

“I am the last Oracle.”

“The last Oracle? I didn’t think any had survived,” supplies Castiel, obviously less surprised than his friend.

“I don’t know how it happened. Maybe I did it myself but I don’t remember. I realised what I was when the angels fell.”

She speaks in hushed tones, making sure nobody else can hear what she’s saying.

“Will you take me with you?” the Oracle asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Listen, I don’t know how it works where you’re from but here, you can’t just take a kid away. I don’t think tripping the amber alert would be such a good idea,” Dean tells her.

Both Castiel and the girl look at him, confused, their heads tilted to one side. Okay, he could see now how they would connect.

“Amber alert is the code for kidnapped kids. The whole world would be looking for us.”

“Then we adopt her,” says Castiel, matter-of-factly.

“Of course. Because it’s just that easy.”

Dean wipes a hand on his face, trying to think how he could explain to not one, but two clueless otherworldly beings, that what they’re asking for is close to impossible.

“Look Beth… why do you wanna leave? You seem to have it good here, you got a pretty nice cover, don’t you?” he asks.

“It was demons that came to our school. I had a vision they were looking for me so that’s why I told Mama Patty I was sick. But I can’t do this all the time. At least with you I won’t need to lie and you’ll protect me. Plus, I love Mama Kay and Mama Patty, I don’t want them to be hurt.”

“Dean, you know she’s right. We can’t leave her here, not if they’re getting close.”

“How does anyone know about you being here?”

“I don’t know,” Beth replies in a small voice.

“And what would they want with you? Do you know?”

“I guess it’s because I can see the future. But I can’t control it. I just get visions sometimes. All I know is that demons and angels are looking for me. And they’re getting closer.”

“Angels too?” breathes Dean.

“Yes,” is all the child can answer.

“Dean, we need to do something,” pleads Castiel to his friend.

“Cas, we’ll talk about it. Beth, for now, we’ll need you to keep quiet about all of this.”

“Okay.”

“We can’t promise anything, but we’ll do our best to help you. You just might need to be patient a bit, and very careful.”

“Dean, what—”

“I’ll explain later, Cas. For now, Beth will have to ward this place against demons and angels. We’d do it ourselves but I doubt her moms would appreciate us drawing on their house.”

“I can’t draw on the walls, I’ll get in trouble,” Beth yelps, eyes wide in dismay.

“No, but I’ll give you a special pen. The ink becomes invisible when it dries so you should be ok. I’ll give you examples of the wards you’ll need to replicate to keep the house safe. You think you can handle that?”

“I should. I’m pretty good at drawing.” Then she smiles. Just like that, she looks like any other six-year-old kid and, somehow, it almost makes Dean forget that he’s talking to some age-old entity.

They soon go find the women in the dining room to bid their thanks and goodbyes. While Castiel explains to them how Beth is a marvellous child but that sadly talking to her hasn’t helped their case, Dean goes in the Impala to grab a UV pen and doodles the wards on some scrap paper he found. Before going back in the house, he grabs a hex bag and an amulet that he also gives to Beth, who surprises both of them with hugs.

“See you soon, Agents,” she says brightly, her light amber eyes shining.

All they can do is smile back at her and wave the family goodbye. As soon as they’re sitting in the car, Dean raises a hand towards Castiel to stop him from saying whatever he was about to say and takes his phone, thumbing through his contacts to get to Sam’s number.

“Hi Sam!”

“Hey Dean! Are you guys on your way?”

“Not quite, still in New Ulm. We might stay another day or two. Gotta ask you to look into something for us though.”

“Ask away.”

“I need you to check on the adoption rules in Minnesota. And Kansas while you’re at it.”

“What? Why?”

“Just… look it up, all right?”

“Okay… does it have anything to do with that kid Cas wanted to see?”

“I’ll explain later, but yeah, it does. Thanks, Sammy!”

“You want to adopt Beth?” asks Castiel when Dean hangs up.

“The truth? No, I really don’t. But she might need our protection and I can’t see another way right now. Not unless the Oracle’s able to find another vessel.”

“Oracles aren’t like angels or demons. To even have her woven into flesh like this is highly irregular.”

“Yeah well, you’ll have to explain it all to me, dude. I haven’t even heard of them before.”

“They’re Greek mythology.”

“Like Prometheus and Zeus and shit?”

“Exactly… well, except for shit, of course,” quips Castiel.

“Getting a hand on sarcasm, I see… you make me so proud,” Dean beams while starting the Impala. “Let’s go get some pizza and go back to the room. Then you can tell me all about the Oracles.”

~ ◊ ~

“So, what you’re telling me is that these Oracles were places? Not people?” asks Dean between mouthfuls of their Italian-sausage-with-extra-cheese-please pizza.

“They were both. In Ancient Greece, Oracles were sacred places where priests and priestesses would interpret the Word of the Universe. But the truth is, these places were really inhabited by infinite wisdom, also called Oracles. And Beth, well she seems to be one of those. The last one, according to her.”

“So… she’s like the supernatural thing, the place and the priest all rolled up into one?”

“You might want to say that, yes. I’m just worried that whoever finds her might want to get to the Oracle and imprison it somewhere a bit more… permanent.”

“She might be okay with that. Means she wouldn’t die.”

“Well, being part human now might have her seeing things differently. Or they could decide to possess her, maybe. Can you imagine the Universe’s knowledge in the grasp of Hell?”

“I see… so what? She’s human now. She can’t live hidden her whole life, she’ll just go crazy.”

“I don’t know Dean. She might be able to tell us what’s best when we get to her.”

“If we can.”

“You’ll find a way,” Castiel says, smiling, before chugging a handful of fries in his mouth.

The hunter looks at his friend, still amazed to see him there, breathing and eating. Things he didn’t need to do before being robbed of his grace by Metatron four months ago. And there he was smiling, and laughing, and learning the human ways as if he had been born to do it. _“Or maybe he had been,”_ Dean thinks. _“Maybe this had been Castiel’s destiny all along.”_

“What?” asks the ex-angel, noticing Dean’s gaze on him.

“Nothing… I was just thinking how well you’re coping. You know, becoming human and stuff.”

“I miss my wings, I won’t lie to you. And my powers. Many human things are tedious, but there are many enjoyable ones too. Showers, food and masturbation are those I enjoy the most.”

“Dude! TMI, come on!”

“What?”

“You don’t… everybody knows choking the chicken is great but you don’t need to talk about it, all right?”

“I didn’t choke any—”

“It means self-pleasuring, Cas. I’m glad you discovered the wonders of touching yourself but, that’s not something I need to know about.”

“But you’re my friend.”

“Yeah… guy friends don’t talk about that shit.”

“Who can I talk to about it then?”

Dean sighs. The guy kind of has a point. It’s not like he’s had anyone to give him any kind of sex talk. It was basically like waking up as a horny teenager without an instruction manual. Dean wonders if all angels were so naive of if it’s just Cas. Gabriel certainly seemed to know what was going on down there.

“Fine. I’m tempted to tell you to call Sam but I don’t think he would be helpful since you don’t have a vagina,” Dean grins. “So lay it on me.”

“I don’t have questions at this time, Dean.”

“Oh… all right.”

“But it’s nice to know I can ask you if I have any. Thank you.”

“No problem. Oh, and I know I said you can ask questions but… just don’t play with little Castiel when I’m around, capisce?”

“I’m not totally inept, Dean. Have you ever seen or heard me?”

This makes Dean kind of choke on his last bite of pizza. Does Cas mean he hasn’t done it with him around or that he just has been careful? He decides he’d rather not know and downs the rest of his beer to try and clear up his throat.

“So, about the Oracles…” Dean continues, wishing the last bit of conversation would just be forgotten about. “You didn’t tell me… are they good or evil?”

“They’re neither… they’re only truthful.”

“Okay, fine. How about the priests that would interpret them?”

“I would like to think they were only messengers. But since they were human, it’s not impossible they could have leaned to either side.”

“We’re kind of dealing with something new. You know that, right?”

“I know. But, Oracle or not, she’s still a child. I doubt she has been corrupted as of yet.”

“I’m glad you think so. Because it all kind of reminds me of Jesse, you know?”

“Jesse?”

“The child you wanted to kill, the Antichrist?”

“Oh, the Cambion. Well, that’s different Dean. He _did_ have evil in him, this we knew for sure.”

“Yeah, whatever. If you say the Oracles aren’t evil, I’m down with helping rather than ganking. Any idea other than adoption?”

“If I were still an angel I could have erased the memories of her with everyone she knows.”

“And it’s not like we could try to find a friendly angel to help us with that. Kidnapping is out of the question. As is trying to explain this shit to her foster mothers.”

“What if she “died”?” Castiel offers, complete with air quotes.

“Well if she dies, someone will wanna do an autopsy. That just might make her dead for real.”

“Not if there’s no body.”

“Which brings us back to the amber alert. Plus, it’s cruel as shit for the parents. I remember when Sammy ran away that time. I thought I was dying inside and not only because I knew my dad would tear me a new one,” Dean recalls with a shudder.

“I don’t know then. You’re the experienced one in all human customs.”

“Yeah… you’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Dean huffs, leaving the small table to go grab another beer from the fridge and going to lie on his bed.

He looks at the digital clock on the bedside table. It’s almost 11:00 pm and he had hoped to hear back from Sam before turning in for the night. He grabs the remote to turn the TV on and starts channel surfing absentmindedly.

Nursing what’s now a lukewarm beer, Castiel stays seated at the table. He had been planning to take a shower after dinner but, considering what he had been experimenting with in the last month or so, as well as Dean’s warning, he’s wondering if he shouldn’t wait for the hunter to be asleep instead.

But of course, talking about it earlier and thinking about it again now, is making the urge a bit more pressing. And it is making his pants a little bit tighter too. Damn it! He gets up and goes to his duffel to grab his sleeping clothes.

“I’m taking a shower,” he growls, retreating hastily to the bathroom.

Castiel has been in there for about 5 minutes when Dean’s phone rings. He is glad to see his brother’s name appear on the screen.

“Hey Sammy!”

“Hey Dean! So, that thing you asked me to look into? I think I’ll need more information. I found some stuff but I’m kind of flying blind here.”

“Yeah… well, that kid Cas was fussing about? Apparently she’s an Oracle stuck in a little girl’s body.”

“An Oracle? For real? The Greek kind?”

“Of course you’d know about them, you big nerd. But yeah, those. She saw that demons and angels are coming for her so she kind of needs our protection. It’s just, we can’t very well kidnap a child now, can we?”

“No, better not. But Dean… adoptions take time.”

“I know that. But I don’t see any other solution. Pretty sure that with our FBI cover and our overall experience with falsifying papers, we could make up something believable enough.”

“I guess… I kinda got ideas but I don’t think that you guys staying over there would help any. It can’t happen in the next few days. It might take up to a couple of weeks.”

“She doesn’t have that much time, Sammy.”

“We could ask other hunters to come and keep an eye on her?”

“Frankly, if we could find where Garth is, I’d be okay with that. But other than him… not sure I’d trust anyone enough. I gave her a UV pen and told her to draw sigils on the house. Gave her hex bags too for when she has to leave the house.”

“So she could be ok for a little while then. Anyway, she can see the future so she’ll know if she’d better not go out, right?”

“She’s only six, Sam. Can’t say she’s able to steer her own boat just yet.”

“Right! So… you’re okay with that?”

“Okay with what?”

“We’re talking about a child, Dean. You are suggesting that we take in a kid and care for it and basically… raise it.”

“Turns out she’s not a kid, Sammy, not in the classic sense anyway! But yeah, I’m okay with that, it’s not like it’ll be my first time either. She needs our help.”

“Okay… so, we’ll do this as fast as possible then. I still think it’ll be less suspicious if you guys leave, unless you still have stuff to do over there?”

“Nah… we know they were demons and what they were after. They’ll be back but hopefully we’ll get to her before they do.”

“See you guys tomorrow then.”

Sam hangs up before Dean can answer, which he probably would not have done anyway. Dean looks at the bathroom door, which is still closed. It makes him realise that Cas has been in there that whole time. Of course he has, showers are one of his favourite things. This and…

“Cas! Gross,” he yells at the door before turning up the volume of the TV.

~ ◊ ~

They have been on the road for close to three hours, they had just passed Le Mars, Iowa, when Dean risks a glance at his friend sitting next to him. He’s still looking outside the passenger window, jaws clenched and brows knitted together.

“Come on, Cas…”

“I’d rather not talk about it, Dean!”

“We couldn’t stay.”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it. Just… leave me be.”

Shooting his eyes upwards, Dean exhales loudly. He barely hesitates before pushing a tape in the cassette player and cranking up the volume. Metallica’s Metal Militia blasts out of the speakers, which makes Cas jump and Dean can’t hide a satisfied smirk. He too can be a pissy bitch, he just does it heavy metal style.

The song isn’t even close to being over before Castiel reaches for the volume button and turns it down. So much that he could have just ejected the tape instead, Dean thinks.

“If I am to be subjected to this until we get home, I might as well just talk. But only if you don’t put this thing back on after.”

“It’s Metallica, dude!”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. And it was much too loud.”

“Fine. I’ll put something else on, and not as loud. After you tell me…”

“I wanted to stay, Dean!”

“I know that. But I told you why it wasn’t a good idea.”

“But how would you know? You said it yourself, you don’t know a thing about adoptions.”

“No, I don’t. But Sam looked into it and thought we shouldn’t stick around for any reason. We can’t be weird Cas, not if you want this to work.”

“Nobody would have seen me.”

“Look, I don’t know how all this is going to go down, but I swear this is the best way, all right?”

Castiel doesn’t answer and goes back to gazing at the passing scenery. He doesn’t know what to answer but also, even if he knew, he feels like he couldn’t. It’s like he has that massive lump in his trachea. He clears his throat, hoping it’ll help.

“Are you fucking crying?” Dean asks, incredulous.

“Of course not,” mutters Castiel, not counting the heat in his eyes as actual crying.

“What’s with you and that kid, man? It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“I don’t know. It’s like… My heart hurts when I think about her, knowing that she’s far and alone. All I want is to hold her in my arms and… pet her hair and… it’s like I need to be near her.”

“Don’t you find it weird? I mean… you don’t even know the kid.”

“She’s not really a kid, Dean.”

“Please don’t tell me what it sounds like you’re telling me,” spits Dean, a bit too venomously.

“What?” the ex-angel says, turning his bright and humid eyes towards his friend.

“You’re not… Are you in love with her?”

“Are you suggesting that I could be sexually attracted to Beth?”

“I’m not suggesting, I’m asking. The way you speak…”

“I do feel like I love her, yes. But not in this matter, no. I believe I feel for her the way you feel about your brother.”

“But you don’t even know her.”

“When a baby is born he will be loved instantly, yet he’s just arrived.”

“So not the same.”

“I don’t care. Something in Beth resonates with me and I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is that I need to take care of her.”

“We’ll try, Cas. That’s why we had to leave.”

“Fine… but, I do feel the need to sulk. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do just that now,” Castiel says but still offers the shadow of a smile.

“I get it. I’ll put less offensive music at a moderate volume. How does that Pink Floyd tape of yours sound?”

The rest of the way is less tense, but not more vocal. As promised, Castiel sulks in his seat and doesn’t say a word, not even when they get into the bunker’s parking garage. He takes his duffel from Dean’s hand and nods in thanks before quickly making his way towards his room. With a sigh, Dean takes his own duffel and closes the Impala’s trunk. He was starting to wonder if getting Cas a kid was such a good idea after all. Maybe a damn cat would have been better.

After having dumped his own duffel in his room, he checks Sam’s room. His brother had been spending most of his days in there since they came back from the hospital. The machines they had been able to _borrow_ were lined up on the wall and had been disconnected. Clearly Sam didn’t think he needed to monitor himself anymore.

The hunter closes the door and makes his way to the library and, of course, that’s where Sam is. Dean has been preparing himself to throw some kind of tantrum about the discarded medical equipment, but what he sees makes him forget about it all. For the first time since forever, since he had started the trials, Sam looks good. Not just okay, but good!

Maybe it’s the fact that Dean hasn’t seen him in close to five days, maybe that’s why he can see the progress his brother has been making.

“Hey Sammy, looking good. How do you feel?” he says, enthusiastic.

“Never better. I’ve started running again. And I can totally keep food down.”

“I’m glad, Sammy, I truly am. But I was still about to yell at you for dumping the monitors.”

“I didn’t dump them… but I’ve been pretty stable for the last 3 weeks.”

Unable to contain himself, Dean jumps on his brother to hug him, which makes Sam laugh.

“I’m okay, Dean.”

“I know, but I was certain I’d be losing you, you know?” he replies, stepping away.

“I know. I’m not a hundred percent yet, but I’m getting there. So, where’s Cas?”

“Probably in his room. He’s sulking.”

“What for?”

“He wanted to stay with the kid. He’s like in love or something.”

“Dean—”

“In a parent-child way. I checked,” Dean reassures his brother.

“That must have been a fun conversation.”

“Yeah, he didn’t appreciate it so much.”

“Well, if you guys are up for it, you might want to go get him, we got a lot of things to discuss.”

“What’s to discuss? We pretty much decided on getting the kid.”

“Yeah, about that…” Sam starts, pushing a little stack of papers towards his brother.

“What’s that?”

“That’s part of the adoption folder I’m preparing. That here, it’s your marriage license.”

“My what now?”

“Marriage license,” Sam repeats, working hard to keep a straight face.

“How…?”

“Just read the thing. I’ll go check on the stew. Yeah, I made stew and you’re gonna eat it.”

Somehow, Dean doesn’t need to read the papers in front of him to know what they’re saying. If at least Charlie had been around, he could have asked her to do this with him. He’s realizing just now how much his life his lacking in the women’s department. Well, there’s Sheriff Mills too. But they certainly couldn’t send herds of angels and demons after her, could they? Not after what Crowley did to her.

Finally, he looks down at the documents. To see their names, even made-up ones, on a marriage license makes Dean’s gut churn. Dean John Waters and Cassidy Gabriel Barrett. Cassidy Gabriel, really? The more Dean looks at it, the more it starts looking like a big joke. Surely Cas will have something to say against this.

The other documents are basic (falsified) documents, like birth certificates, proof of employment and a bunch of other crap Dean doesn’t really want to know anything about. All he, and his stomach, seem to be able to focus on right now is the fact that he appeared to now be fake gay married to an ex-Angel of the Lord.

And for some odd reason, he finds he doesn’t feel the need to throw a bitch fit about it.


	4. A Makeshift Family

After eleven days of gathering all the information they need and fabricating every bit of documentation possible, Sam is able to put the last of their plan in motion. Going through the contacts on his phone, he thumbs down until he reaches the number he’s looking for.

“Sheriff Mills,” answers their friend’s voice.

“Hey Jody! It’s Sam.”

“Oh, hi Sam! You got a new number?”

“Yup, my other phone died a couple of days ago,” he laughs. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing okay. How about you? You’re feeling good?”

“Doing much better, Jody, thank you.”

“I’m glad. You do sound better.”

“So, huh… I was wondering. Do you think we could come and see you soon?”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. But we got a situation right now and we could use your help.”

“Does it have to do with torturing and maybe killing a certain King of Hell?”

“Sadly, no! Not at this time anyway.”

“Can’t blame a girl for asking.”

“We’ll find him. And when we do, he’ll pay.”

“Don’t worry about it… But yeah, you can get here whenever. I’ll always have time for the Winchester boys.”

“Thanks Jody! I’ll call you when we’re on our way.”

“I’ll be expecting you guys then. Be careful now.”

“Thanks, you too. See you soon.”

Sam hangs up, satisfied. Jody’s the last of his plan and she would say yes, he’s certain of it. Especially knowing that a kid is involved. Not that he wants to take advantage of that fact, but he knows she has the biggest heart and would understand the necessity of lying for the sake of that child.

Now all he has to do is wait for Dean and Cas to come back from their hunt in Maryville, Missouri. They had heard of some budding vamp nest, which had been easy enough to find and eradicate. They were already on their way back.

Going over what he now calls the “adoption case”, Sam checks everything again. They can’t afford any mistake because there wouldn’t be any way to try again. When he gets to the marriage license, he can’t help but chuckle. The look on Castiel’s face when he had read it had been the funniest sight ever.

He still wonders if it had been the married or the name part he’d gaped at. But Cas hadn’t commented, he only nodded and thanked him. Nothing much had changed except that, from time to time, Sam had tried to tell his brother and fake brother-in-law to make sure they’d be able to act like a couple when they’d see the foster parents again.

After many uncomfortable attempts in showing off some sort of intimacy, they all decided that being a couple didn’t have to mean they had to be all lovey-dovey. Both Dean and Cas were more than okay with that. What Sam didn’t tell them was that the way they usually were around each other would be enough anyway. The looks alone could make anyone think that they are deeply in love. Which, as far as Sam is concerned, is the case anyway, whether they want to know it or not.

His phone interrupts his thoughts. Castiel’s name pops-up on the screen.

“Hi Cas!”

“Hello Sam! Is everything ready for Beth’s adoption?”

“Well, mostly but—”

“She just called us. They’re on the verge of finding her, we’re driving back to New Ulm right now.”

“But you can’t just go and grab her—”

“Sam, you have to find a way. Did you talk to Sheriff Mills yet?”

“I called her earlier to ask if we could go see her, but I didn’t explain why.”

“We don’t have time to spare. We have to be able to go get Beth tomorrow at the latest. Can you try and arrange something?”

“You don’t even have the paperwork…”

Sam hears shuffling over the phone. Soon enough, he hears his brother’s voice.

“Sam! Is there a fax machine in the bunker somewhere?”

“If there is, I’ve never seen it.”

“Then there must be one somewhere in town. And surely the New Ulm’s Sheriff’s office has one too.”

“I could overnight everything to you?”

“Whatever you think is best, but I don’t even know yet where we’ll be staying.”

“I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, I’ll call Jody back and explain what we need. Then I’ll call to announce your arrival.”

“Perfect! Keep us posted, all right?”

“I will. Be careful guys. Talk to you later.”

Sam hangs up and immediately searches back again for Jody’s number. This time, she answers on the first ring.

“Twice in one day, Sam? You sure do know how to make a girl feel special,” she answers.

“Yeah, you might not think that after I tell you the reason I called.”

“Why? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“No, I’m okay, don’t worry. I’m actually calling about that thing I wanted to go see you about. Seems it became an urgent matter.”

“Lay it on me.”

“See, it’s like this. About two weeks ago, Dean and Cas were working a case in Minnesota and they met this kid. Turns out she’s an Oracle, and demons and angels are after her and she needs protection. Except that she’s only six and in a foster home. So, we’re kind of adopting her.”

“Whoa there… What? You got some stuff to explain. What’s an Oracle? And how can you be adopting a kid?”

“Okay… An Oracle is kind of a Greek Mythology prophet entity; they can see the future and all. As soon as I can, I’ll explain better, I promise. As for the adoption part, well, that’s pretty much where we need your help.”

“Hmm… listen Sam, I know you mean well but adopting a kid is something big. And it will take a very long time. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer but—”

“No, Jody. I’m not implying for you to adopt the kid. It’s all settled, the papers are done.”

“Falsified you mean?”

“Of course, but it was necessary. So yeah, Dean and Cas are adopting the kid.”

“Together?”

“Yup. So right now, they have a fake marriage licence and they are on their way to go get their just as fake adopted girl.”

“Okay… I hate you.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m an officer of the law, Sam. What you’re telling me is wrong on so many levels. You know that, right?”

“Jody, you know what we do. Do you think we’d do this if it wasn’t necessary?”

“No, I know. But I don’t see how you could be needing me if you’ve done everything already.”

“Okay, so here’s the plan…”

~ ◊ ~

Dean parks the Impala at the Corona Inn in front of their newly rented room’s door. It’s already dark and the place is dreadful but both he and Castiel are so tired they don’t even try to find the energy to care.

“Are you hungry?” Castiel asks when he’s laying face down on one of the two beds.

“Never thought I’d say this in my life but no, I’m really not,” Dean replies, relishing the idea of a hot shower. “Dude, you shouldn’t lay on the bedspread like that.”

“Why not?” he mumbles.

“’Cause it’s probably the dirtiest crap in here. These places hardly ever clean those.”

“Don’t care! I’m tired!”

Still, the former angel moves and climbs underneath the covers, not bothering to take off his clothes.

“Wake me up when Sam calls. I’ll just take a little nap.”

“I’ll be in the shower so you’ll have to answer if he calls.”

Castiel doesn’t respond, already sound asleep. After going through his duffel for a fresh pair of underwear and a t-shirt, Dean locks himself in the bathroom. If the heat he had been longing for is there, he can’t say the same for the pressure. Well, to be honest, when you’ve been spoiled by the bunker’s water pressure, everything else feels like nothing more than a light summer rain. And that’s not going to help getting rid of the knots in his back.

With a cheeky smile, Dean wonders how Cas would react if he were to wake up to a pair of masseuses in the room because, of course, Dean would get one for him too. He must be just as stressed out as he is. That’s when it hits him that he’s just been thinking of calling girls to the room for him and Cas. At the same time. In the same room. While they’re on their way to gay-adopt a kid.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if it was actual massage therapy. But the girls Dean is thinking of? They’re not of the professional kind. Well, they are but… not the kind with a diploma anyway. So yeah, that’d definitely be weird. No masseuses then.

Maybe he could ask Cas to… nope, that’s even weirder. And if the thought of having the ex-angel’s hands working on his back seems to be eliciting some kind of heat down below, it has to be because he’s just tired. And horny. No other reason.

Dean is towelling himself dry when he hears his phone’s ringtone from the other side of the door. It has to be Sam and it seems that Cas is sleeping right through it.

“Cas! Phone,” he yells while putting on clean boxer shorts, then his old Van Halen t-shirt.

Of course, when he comes back in the bedroom, the light is pulsing on his phone, indicating he has a new voice mail and Castiel is still buried under the covers. Dean picks up the phone, not surprised to see that it was indeed Sam who had called. He taps on his brother’s name to call him back.

“Hey! Where are you guys?” Sam answers on the first ring.

“We just got here. I was in the shower and Cas seems to be dead to the world right now.”

“Yeah, ok! So, you heard my message?”

“Nah, just called you right back.”

“Ok… hum, you wanna wait for Cas or…?”

“Gimme a sec. Hey Cas,” Dean says loudly, poking hard at his friend with his foot.

“Whaaaa…?” comes a rumble from the heap on the bed.

“Sam’s on the phone, wanna know what he has to say?”

That seems to do the trick as the ex-angel sits up. His eyes are still closed and his mouth is slack, but Dean decides he’s aware enough.

“All right Sammy, I’m putting you on speaker. Go ahead.”

“So here what’s happening, guys. It took a bit of convincing, but Jody’s on board. Agents Waters and Barrett are happily married and live in Sioux Falls. I told her we used Bobby’s address. I sent all the paperwork to the Studwick-Travis foster home, to the social worker’s attention. As you know, I had been in contact with Minnesota’s Adoption Department and they knew this was coming.”

“Yeah… So we’re good to pick-up Beth tomorrow?”

“Surprisingly, yeah. Everything seems to be in order.”

“And when do we end it all?”

“I think it’ll have to happen quickly after. We can’t risk having anyone send child services to Bobby’s old place.”

“Yeah, they just might anyway after they get the news.”

“That’s why Jody suggested that we have you guys die in a house fire. She’ll burn what still remains of the property. Should look realistic enough. And her position as Sheriff will allow her to prepare whatever’s needed to make you three properly deceased.”

“Whatever she thinks is best. We can’t afford to have anyone look for that kid.”

“No, she knows that. She’s on our side, she’ll do all she can to bury any traces of you guys.”

“Great! Thanks Sam. Anything else we need to know?”

“Only that you are expected at the girl’s foster home tomorrow at 11:00 am. You will meet with her social worker, Mr. Wagner, and the foster mothers, Misses Travis and Studwick. Your social worker in Sioux Falls is Mr. Smith, which is me.”

“Really Sam? Smith?”

“I wasn’t inspired. Who cares? So yeah, Samuel Smith is your social worker, if they ever ask. My card’s in the packet I sent.”

“Excellent, thanks Sammy. We should be fine then.”

“You should. If there’s anything, just call me, all right?”

“Yes, thank you Sam. You most certainly saved this little girl’s life,” Castiel offers, speaking for the first time since the beginning of the conversation.

“I hope so. Now just go to bed guys, I’ll see you home tomorrow. You’ll be bringing her right back?”

“Yeah! We won’t stay here knowing that something’s coming for her. The sooner she’s in the bunker, the better.”

“I hear you. Good luck guys, and see you tomorrow.”

“All right. See you tomorrow, Sammy. Thanks again!”

Dean hangs up and puts the phone back on the bedside table, then folds the probably filthy bedspread towards the foot of the bed.

“Tomorrow we will have a child,” breathes Castiel from his own bed.

Dean cringes at his friend’s words, but he’s not entirely sure why that is.

“Cas… you know, she’s not really a kid. And we’re not really adopting her, right? And there’s not really a we either,” he feels compelled to say, waving a hand between the two of them.

“I know, but to the outside world, it still is what’s happening. I find the experience… interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well… I doubt I’ll ever be a father. Or a husband. I might be human now, but I still am a soldier first and foremost, just like you and your brother.”

“I told you, Cas. You don’t have to be.”

“Yes, I do. I might not have been a human for long, but I’m still the same as you. Can you imagine yourself not being a hunter?”

“I basically became one at four years old.”

“I was made a soldier before the Earth was ever budding with life, how do you think I could stop being one now?” Cas answers with a smile before lying back again on the bed and burying himself in the covers. “Good night, Dean,” he adds, his voice muffled by the thick wall of blankets.

“’Night, Cas,” Dean answers back, unable to look away from the lump on the bed.

_“He’s not wrong,”_ Dean thinks. Both had been moulded into hunters, or soldiers, from pretty much the start. There’s no way either of them would ever be able to escape this life until it made them anything but dead.

~ ◊ ~

It’s a little after two in the morning when Sam hears a loud banging at the bunker’s door. The people that know about this place, they have been instructed to call before coming over. Whoever’s out there is lucky Sam has even woken up the rooms are so far removed from the entryway.

Not that he’s scared or anything, but he has to be smart about letting anyone in. He’s still debating if he should go see who’s at the door when his phone’s text alert chimes. He grabs it and grins at what he reads on the screen.

[ **Jody Mills** : Sam, let me in. Freezing my butt off.]

Sam puts on a t-shirt and jogs to reach the heavy iron door.

“Jody, what are you doing here?” Sam exclaims when he opens it.

“Always nice to feel appreciated, Sam,” she quips, poking his chest with her forefinger before walking in.

“Of course I am delighted, Sheriff,” he replies, engulfing her in a warm hug. “Still surprised though.”

“Yeah, I thought you guys may need my help,” she explains vaguely, starting to walk down the stairs. “So, where am I sleeping?”

“Huh… right! The room next to mine’s empty, if that’s all right with you.”

“Perfect. Show me the way.”

“Wait! Don’t you want to explain—”

“I will, but in the morning. Right now I’m exhausted. And you, too, need your beauty sleep,” she says with a scowl.

“All right. Follow me then. Real happy to see you here,” he adds with a smile.

“Same here. Good night Sam, see you later,” Jody says, before entering the room Sam shows her and shutting the door.

“’Night Jody…” mutters Sam, slightly confused. He stays there for a minute, trying to make sense of what just happened but finds that he can’t and that he would indeed rather go back to sleep. Which may or may not happen before his large frame is even sprawled face down on the mattress.

Sam wakes up about five hours later. He’d rather stay in bed but a nagging feeling seems to be preventing him from doing just that. The guys wouldn’t be back until very much later tonight, it’s not like he has to—

“Jody,” he breathes, sitting up on his bed.

He’s having a little difficulty focusing, but he’s pretty sure the sheriff came to the bunker sometime during the night. And she should be sleeping in the next room. But he’s trying to see a reason why that would be and he finds that he can’t. So, it could also have been a dream. He did talk to her the day before after all.

Pretty sure he won’t be going back to sleep, he elects to get up and at least go take a look in the room where he thinks Jody would be. If she did come all the way here, that is. After knocking gently on the door, Sam sticks his ear to the wood and listens. Nothing’s moving in there. If she’s here, she might still be sleeping.

Gingerly, he turns the doorknob and pushes on the door, praying for a non-creaking one. Well, usually in this place nothing ever creaks, not the doors and not even the floors. Still, if it has to start happening it would probably be at such an unfortunate moment.

“Good morning Sam,” comes Jody’s cheery voice from behind him.

Startled, Sam closes the door a bit too forcefully and turns around.

“Good morning, Jody. Sorry, I wasn’t sure if I had been dreaming so I wanted to check if you were really there.”

“See, I’m here,” she smiles. “I wanted to get my book so I could read a bit until you woke up, but I see I don’t need it anymore,” she adds, turning to walk back towards the kitchen. “Coffee’s ready,” Sam hears her say from further in the bunker.

“Coming,” he shouts back before following her where she had disappeared.

As he gets closer, he smells the freshly brewed coffee and that’s when his senses start waking up. He picks up another delicious aroma, something sweet with a hint of cinnamon. Like those swirly raisin croissants you can get in a pastry shop. He’s half surprised to see that this is exactly what’s cooling on the table, next to a plate of sliced fruits: apples, oranges, honeydew melon and pineapples.

“Whoa! When did you find the time to do this?” Sam exclaims, looking at the breakfast table.

“Don’t give me too much credit. I bought the pastries yesterday; I just warmed them up now. The pineapples are from a can and the other fruits I brought from home. Didn’t want to waste them.”

“Still… that’s… thanks Jody.”

“My pleasure. So, coffee?”

“Oh god, yes!”

Jody laughs while pouring him a cup. She then picks up the milk carton and quirks an eyebrow, asking if he needs it. Sam only shakes his head and grabs the cup, taking his first sip. He lets out a contented sigh, relaxing his body in his seat. Not that it’s the most comfortable seat in the house but it’ll have to do for now.

“You make a mean coffee, Jody. What did you do?”

“A bit of cinnamon in the coffee grounds.”

“Very good. I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, grabbing a pastry.

“So, you wanna know what I’m doing here?”

“Hummm Hmmm,” Sam can only reply because, unlike his brother, he knows not to speak with his mouth full.

“Well, you told me you got a six year old girl coming here later today. Do you boys know anything about girls?”

“Jody, I know I didn’t explain it all but, she’s not really a six year old girl. She’s an Oracle.”

“Yeah! And what does she know about being a human girl. Does she know everything already or is she learning as she goes? Like any other kid would?”

“Well… I…”

“See Sam, I wouldn’t be worried if the kid was a little boy. I’m pretty sure you know how little boys work. I’m just a bit worried about… girl stuff.”

“What girl stuff? If you mean her period and other things, then she’s still far from that and… well… I’m pretty sure we could manage to answer any question she might have.”

“I’m sure you could. But are you sure you want to?” Jody asks, looking Sam dead in the eye.

“Why do I feel like you’re not telling me the truth? I know you Jody and… this seems like lame sexist reasoning and I don’t think that’s who you are,” Sam finally says, taken aback by his friend’s questions.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you or your brother, I just meant… it’s not easy being a parent. And you already have so much on your plate, with the hunting and the demons and the angels. I get that she needs protection, but she also might need—”

“A mother?”

“A parent, a real one. She had that in her foster home but now… are Dean and Castiel, or even you, prepared to offer that as well?” Jody says under her breath, extremely tense.

“Jody, I know this might be difficult, knowing… your history,” Sam offers softly, taking one of her hands in his. “But I swear, we all discussed this. The three of us are totally on board and we’ll make sure she gets whatever it is she needs. Dean and Cas seem to think that she’s more of a kid somehow. So we’ll educate her, and protect her and love her as she’s now part of our family,” he continues, trying his best to reassure his friend. “Plus, you gotta remember that Dean basically raised me, if it helps any.”

“I know. But when she’ll be a teenager and needs—”

“Then she’ll know she has her Aunties Jody and Charlie to talk to if the three Neanderthal degenerates taking care of her can’t help at all.”

Jody finally seems to relax a bit, letting a small laugh escape her lips. She squeezes the hunter’s hand before taking hers back to grab a slice of apple and bring it to her mouth.

“Can I stay until they come back? I’d love to meet her,” she asks while grabbing a second slice.

“You’re always welcome here, Jody. Never doubt it,” Sam responds with a smile. Seeing her smile back at him makes him warm inside. He feels like telling her she could stay forever if she ever wanted to, but he doesn’t. He knows full well her life is in Sioux Falls and will always be. Right now, as it happens sometimes, he kind of wishes he could have a life over there too.

~ ◊ ~

Turns out New Ulm doesn’t have a decent breakfast joint or diner, all in Dean’s opinion of course, so he decides to drive to Mankato to get breakfast.

“Dean, we need to go get Beth at eleven.”

“It’s barely eight, dude, we have plenty of time.”

“An hour to go, an hour to come back, we still have to eat. It’s pretty tight, don’t you think?”

“First of all, it’s about thirty minutes to get there, not an hour. And we’re not going to have some fancy dinner, it’s breakfast. Plenty of time.”

“But the traffic…”

Dean grabs his duffel. “Cas, I promise we’re ok. We’ll be back on time, all right? I’m just real hungry and I don’t want to eat McD’s for breakfast,” he explains.

“Fine,” Castiel answers, grabbing his own bag. “That restaurant we’re going to, they have hot chocolate you think?”

“They all have hot chocolate. Come on, _princess_.”

Making his way to the car, Dean doesn’t hear his friend’s reply to the silly nickname but if the grumbling tone is anything to go by, he’s probably not too happy about it.

The ex-angel’s mood doesn’t get much better when, as he seems to have predicted, they get stuck in traffic while getting to Mankato. Instead of the planned thirty minutes, it takes about fifty minutes.

“Told you it’d take longer,” spits Castiel from his seat, arms crossed on his chest.

“Look, it’s morning, people are going to work, and it’s only normal. It won’t be the same when we drive back.”

“Of course, because you were so right the first time.”

Dean grits his teeth and decides against saying anything back. Since Cas has been fully human, he’s been having some problems tempering his emotions. He might not be the biggest emotional guy on the planet but Dean still can recognize that Cas is overly stressed with the whole Beth thing.

Both he and Sam have tried to tell him that everything will be all right, but for some reason Castiel doesn’t seem to be able to relax. Dean hopes that when they have the kid with them he’ll finally let go and breathe a bit because – right now – the guy’s pretty difficult to live with and Dean’s this close to just be kicking him out of the car. And he probably wouldn’t bother stopping first.

“Is it very far? Maybe we should get the food to go, what do you think?” asks Cas in a low voice. He knows he’s getting on his friend’s last nerve, but he can’t help it.

“We’re almost there and, if you don’t mind, I’d rather eat my food while it’s still hot.”

“Of course…”

Dean spots the restaurant’s sign and sighs in relief. Finally they’re here. He needs coffee, grease, and sugar like it’s going out of style. The engine is still running when he hears Castiel’s seatbelt click and his door open. Like a flash, he grabs his friend’s wrist so he won’t leave just yet. He pulls him a little towards his own body, locking their eyes together.

“Cas, man… you need to calm down, all right?” he starts, a low growl in his voice. “You can’t be this fidgety and nervous and weird when we get to the Sheriff’s house, you hear me? We might have papers and everything, but if we act even a little suspicious, the social worker can just as well decide to pull the plug.”

“He can’t do that,” yelps Castiel, eyes wide with fear.

“Believe me, he can. That’s why you need to calm the fuck down. Now we’ll go in the restaurant, sit down and have a delicious breakfast. You’ll get a nice hot chocolate with whipped cream and even rainbow sprinkles if that’s what you want. And. You’ll. Chill. Let me worry about getting us back on time.”

“But—”

“But nothing. If we fuck this up, it’s over. There’s no going back and we won’t be able to help her. So please, just breathe okay?” Dean concludes, nodding softly to make sure his friend understands.

When Castiel exhales, and then nods back, Dean finally lets go of his wrist. While he does it though, he can’t avoid softly brushing his fingers on the soft skin of Cas’ inner wrist, as if to soothe any ache he could have caused while grabbing him.

Still, Dean hopes the touch is light and brief enough that Cas won’t take note of it.

As for Cas, he hopes Dean doesn’t notice the goose bumps he elicits under his fingertips.

~ ◊ ~

The Studwick-Travis house smells like chocolate chip cookies and fresh coffee. When Castiel and Dean are welcomed inside, Patricia warns them right away to keep their shoes on before leading them to the living room where the sheriff is already seated with a short bald man.

“Where’s Beth?” whispers Castiel into Dean’s ear, tugging at the hunter’s sleeve.

“Breathe, Cas,” he whispers back, taking his friend’s hand in his to try and calm him down. They’re supposed to be married anyway, aren’t they?

Kalyn Studwick gets up from her seat to greet them.

“Agents Waters and Barrett, hello again.”

“Please, we’re off duty. I’m Dean, this is my partner Cas,” Dean says, extending his hand to the man still seated.

“Husband,” corrects Castiel with a tight smile, offering his hand as well.

“Yorick Wagner, I am Beth’s social worker. Your social worker’s not with you?”

“I believe you spoke to Mr. Smith already, am I right?” asks Dean, sitting on the sofa and pulling Cas down with him.

“Indeed. He said he’d try to make it. I guess he couldn’t.”

“Where’s Beth? She’s not here?” Cas asks, trying not to sound too eager.

“I wished to meet and talk to you a little bit first, if that’s all right with you,” Mr. Wagner replies, eyeing Castiel intently.

“Yes, that’s fine. I was only wondering,” answers the ex-angel, squeezing Dean’s hand a bit too hard.

Dean immediately takes back his hand but instead puts it on his friend’s leg. He’s tempted to squish it real hard in retaliation but instead rubs lightly up and down the thigh.

“I’m only intrigued as to what made you want to adopt Beth in the first place. And so quickly too. You’ve met her only once, and briefly if I’m not mistaken.”

Okay. They had practiced this. Dean stops rubbing Castiel’s thigh and holds it tight instead, trying to make him understand that he’s got this. As a response, Castiel lays a slightly clammy hand over his.

“Frankly, it’s just a big ol’ mess of circumstances,” starts Dean, smiling at everyone in the room. “As you probably can see in our files, we’ve known each other for awhile now. First made partners at work then became fast friends. With a job like ours, we tend to quickly become tight with our co-workers, you know? Then, well, we realised we liked each other more than we thought. Been together for almost 8 years, been married for 5.” Dean turns to his fake husband and smiles.

“We’ve always known we’d want kids someday. We applied for adoption a little while ago but we didn’t feel rushed or anything. Until we met Beth. I guess it kind of clicked and we contacted everybody who could help us. And they did,” finishes Castiel in an even tone, but not robotic enough to sound rehearsed.

“Why wouldn’t you just wait for her to finish her school year? Going to a new school right now might just jeopardize her whole year.”

“With all due respect, she’s only in first grade so it doesn’t worry me too much. I would think the information is in the packet Mr Smith sent but anyway, Cas here is more than qualified to home school any kid we intend on having. We also have the support of the school system in Sioux Falls. And to do this, of course, Cas has resigned from the FBI to be a stay at home dad.”

"What about friends her own age? She needs a social life too."

"Of course. Most of our friends have kids and we’re hoping she’ll want to participate in some of the town’s many activities," confirms Castiel with a serious frown.

“And how about you Dean? You’ll be staying at the FBI?”

“For now… I’m pretty sure I’ll get tired real quick of not seeing my hubby and my kid on a regular basis though. This job asks for a lot of travelling.”

“If I had anything to say about it, you’d never leave home again,” Dean hears Castiel say and, without any warning, he feels warm lips brush against his cheek.

Trying to keep his composure, Dean slides his eyes over to the two women and he’s glad to see them smile, apparently happy with what they’re witnessing. Drawing his eyes back over to the social worker, he can see that the man’s stance is much more relaxed. Seems they’re making a good enough impression.

“I’ll go get Beth,” the man says, apparently satisfied. “Gotta talk to her a bit, but all seems up to regulation.”

Dean feels Castiel’s hand tremble at the words. He squeezes his leg a bit to try and calm him down. The ex-angel surprises him again by leaning his head against his shoulder. Nothing too invasive, but certainly nothing like they’ve ever done before. Again, he succeeds in keeping his cool.

This is a normal occurrence, they’re married, everyone in the room thinks they’ve done stuff that’s much more intimate than this. With _much_ less clothing. He swallows the string of curse words that start bubbling up at the unwelcome thoughts the whole situation is prompting.

“Aw, they’re so cute. They’re just like us before we got the kids,” teases the sheriff, looking at the men with a bright smile.

“Oh shush! We’re still just as cute! Didn’t I tell you or didn’t I tell you?” responds her fiancée, mirroring Castiel’s position.

“Yeah, you told me all right! But was it you or Beth?”

“Even without Beth I would have known, babe.” Seeing the men looking at them a little intrigued, Patricia explains. “I knew you guys were together the minute I saw you. I didn’t know you’d be adopting Beth, but I could see how much you loved each other. Kay here didn’t believe me.”

“I’m sorry. You were right.”

“Wait,” interjects Dean. “You thought that—”

“Yes, Dean, she guessed we were in love. Even though we try to be professionals, I guess our bond is just too strong. Get over it,” Castiel warns gently, sitting straight again, trying to keep his tone on the cheery side.

“Yeah! I mean… I just thought we were better at hiding it,” Dean explains with an embarrassed laugh.

“Don’t worry guys, you’re doing a great job. I’m just very astute,” Patricia comforts Dean with a wink.

“Dean, Cas,” calls an excited voice from behind them.

They don’t have time to turn before getting attacked by a small tornado in a yellow dress. Beth hugs them both, more than once, visibly excited to see them again. She’s agitated and can’t seem to stay still more than five consecutive seconds.

“You’re my family now, right? I’m going home with you? Forever?”

“Yes Beth, you’re coming home with us. Isn’t that right Mr Wagner?” confirms Castiel, not wanting to let any doubt linger.

“Everything seems to be in order. You all look quite excited to start your new life together. Beth and I had a chat before we came down and she knows I’ll be keeping tabs on her,” the bald man says. He’s smiling but his eyes are sending a clear warning to the new fathers.

“And so will we, if that’s okay with you,” informs Sheriff Studwick, also more as a warning than a request.

“Of course. You’ve been in her life for a long time; you took care of her, I don’t see why not. And you’re okay with this, right Beth?” Castiel asks the girl, looking her in the eye. She understands and nods slightly before running to her foster mothers.

“I’ll miss you so much, mamas. I can call you if I miss you too much?”

“Of course, pumpkin. And you and your daddies can come and visit anytime you wish,” replies the sheriff, wiping a tear from her cheek.

Before long, the whole room is crying. Well, almost the whole room. The social worker and Dean seem to be able to refrain from letting the waterworks flow free. If either of them sees the mist in the other one’s eyes, he certainly doesn’t say anything about it.

After an orgy of goodbyes, hugs, kisses, and promises, Dean and Castiel can finally start loading up the car with the little possessions Beth has. Mostly clothes, but also some toys, books and art supplies.

When everything’s in the car, more tears and hugs get shed and shared. Dean has to use the excuse of needing to be in Sioux Falls before dinner so they can stop with the emotional fest. So the farewells are cut short, even though in reality they had been doing just that for close to an hour.

It isn’t until the Impala passes the city’s limits that Dean starts to breathe a little easier. And it’s only when they cross states lines into Iowa, about an hour and a half later, that he can truly believe that they got away with it.

“Well, it’s official, we made it out of Minnesota, we did it! Cas, could you call Sam to let him know?”

“Sure. Are we stopping for the night or—”

“Nope. You guys can sleep if you’re tired,” he adds, checking up on Beth in the rear-view mirror.

“At least we’ll stop to eat something?”

“Of course.”

“Great, then stop at Wal-Mart. We’ll get a pillow and blanket for Beth.”

“Cas—”

“Dean, if you’re going to make us sleep in the car, let’s at least make sure she’s comfortable.”

~ ◊ ~

Three hours later, Dean is pushing a cart in the Home Department of the Wal-Mart in Sioux City, Iowa. In front of him, Castiel and Beth are fondling and petting every furry blanket they see. Some have animal print, some have flowers. As a true six-year-old girl – apparently being an Oracle has no incidence whatsoever on taste – Beth seems drawn to anything pink and fluffy and if there’s glitter, it’s even better.

After a while, they have chosen something not too offensive for the eye and a big square pillow covered in plush.

“Guys, that’s more like a decorative pillow. It’s not suited for sleeping.”

“But it’s pretty,” counters Beth.

“I’m sure it is, but it’s not good to sleep on.”

“Please?” Cas pleads, trying again with the sad puppy eyes trick.

“Really Cas? I’m gonna have to be the only adult here? That’s not a sleeping pillow, it’s not safe.”

As if he doubted such a pretty object could be dangerous, Castiel squints his eyes at his friend, apparently trying to decide if Dean’s being an ass or if indeed the plush pillow could be hazardous. Then he remembers the sea anemone, gasps and takes the pillow out of the cart.

He doubles back towards the real pillows and grabs a couple of them, then nice pillowcases. And, why not, adds in the matching sheets. At the end of the row they find the most adorable selection of bedspreads.

“Cas,” warns Dean, seeing the cart getting fuller by the minute.

“We’re here Dean, might as well buy what we need for Beth’s room.”

“We already have pillows and blankets and everything.”

“Yes. And I’m sure a young lady such as Beth will feel very much at home in a old man’s bedroom from the 1950’s.”

“And you wonder why I call you princess?” Dean taunts before rolling the cart towards the food section. “I’m getting pie!”

“And some real food please! We haven’t had dinner yet,” Castiel calls back, looking at the different bedspreads with Beth.

“We’re not fucking married, Cas! Stop trying to boss me around,” Dean mutters, keeping an eye on their surroundings to see if there could be anyone they should be looking out for.

Nobody seems to be paying them any mind. Except this one guy. Tall and dark, he’s looking at Dean with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye. Dean knows that look, he has given it to enough women to get its meaning.

Right when he’s about to give the man a dismissive look that could either mean he’s not interested or otherwise engaged, the man winks at him and makes a classic hand gesture, complete with the appropriate sound effect.

_Whipped!_

“Son of a bitch,” Dean can only growl while the man walks away cackling.


	5. The Things We Learn

“And they didn’t take the hint?” asks Jody, incredulous.

She is sitting in one of the big leather armchairs in the corner of the library, sipping on a cup of tea, just like Sam who’s in the chair right next to hers. The hunter huffs a bit, sounding both amused and disappointed.

“It’s not like we had many options to begin with, but yeah, marrying them off was also meant to be some kind of message on my part. Which they didn’t get, obviously. It’s… it’s sad, really.”

“Maybe we’re wrong then. Maybe they’re not attracted to each other.”

“Jody, come on. You’ve seen it and you haven’t even been around them that much. I _live_ with them.”

“Maybe the guy on guy thing’s putting them off, then? It wouldn’t be unheard of…”

“I’m pretty sure Cas wouldn’t care. As for Dean, let me just say I think the jury’s still out on that one.”

“You think your brother’s gay?” asks Jody, a bit doubtful.

“Well… gay, I don’t think so, no. But see, my brother’s a huge flirt. Like, everyone knows that. And he’ll flirt with _everybody, anybody_. As far as I know, he’s only slept with women, but he’ll flirt with men, and pretty easily too. I’ve seen it happen.”

“Yeah, well if he flirts with everyone equally, it might not mean anything.”

“I know. But I still think he could have bisexual inklings, you know? He might not be a full 3 on the Kinsey scale but I’m certain he’s not a 0.”

“What’s that?”

“The Kinsey scale? Some way to kind of measure someone’s heterosexuality versus their homosexuality, to put it simply. Goes from full on straight to full on gay.”

“And what’s your score?” Jody asks with a smirk, not expecting her friend to answer.

“Honestly? If I hadn’t been to college, I might still be a 0. But according to the scale I’d be a 1. I actually consider myself to be more of a 0.5, but it’s not on there. So 1 it is.”

“And that means…”

“Just means that I was curious once, and not totally sober. Had this… make out session let’s say… with a guy in my dorm. We didn’t go that far, hand stuff mostly, but it still pretty much answered any questions I could have had on the subject.”

“So you’re full on hetero then?”

“Save for that time, I’d say yeah. I know I don’t see guys that way but who knows. Life could just make me meet someone who’ll change it all some day, you know? If that happened, I guess I wouldn’t be too weirded out about it.”

“Which doesn’t seem to be your brother’s case.”

“Yeah, I wish he’d talk about his feelings a bit more – about anything really. But if he’s got a thing for Cas and he’s freaking out, then he might just bury it down again.”

“Again?”

“Well… I kinda tried to talk to him once about it. You know, a maybe-you-like-guys-but-it’s-okay kind of talk?”

“I take it didn’t go so well?”

“I started to think he’d be shooting me if I kept pushing the issue, so I let it go. We kinda were in a bad place too, but that was also the reason I felt the need to say something. All because of that siren—”

“A siren? Don’t tell me Ariel’s real?”

“Well… same name, totally different M.O. The siren thrives on love and desire and well, it made itself as a man to get to Dean. So yeah, I thought at the time we could try and talk about that. But he kept insisting it was about wanting a perfect brother, but it just doesn’t make sense with how those creatures work, you know?”

Jody doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know what she could be saying anyway. All she knows is that these guys should be able to have love if they want it. And frankly, life’s been less than kind to both of them in that regard. She doesn’t know much about Dean, except that he’s some sort of womaniser with a possible case of the closet.

She’s a bit surprised with Sam’s admission of some man action though. She thought she knew all about his history as they had been talking a lot during his recovery from the trials. She knows about Jessica, Madison, Sarah, and even Ruby. She also knows how scared he is to ever let anybody else in again because they just might die because of him.

That was mainly the reason he had never gone back to Amelia the year before, choosing instead to stay alongside his brother. Because him being back in the game would have painted a target on her back. In his own words, enough women in his life had died because of him, his mother being the first one. And even though she finds this all to be extremely sad, Jody kind of understands.

“You ok?” Sam asks gently, seeing his friend’s features getting sombre, her brows knitting together.

“Yeah, sorry.” She smiles, shaking her head to try and get rid of her own dark memories. “So, when are they due back?”

“Soon. They had just passed Beatrice when Cas called and that was over an hour ago. I’d say they’ll be here within the next thirty minutes.”

“Good.”

The sheriff sinks lower in her seat, taking full advantage of the stillness in the air, of how quiet the Winchesters’ so-called bunker can be.

“You know what’s missing here?” she says after a while.

“Nope…”

“A fireplace. You’ve got these big comfy chairs, old musty books, warm brick walls, nice rugs, even a working phonograph… but no fireplace.”

“True… it could probably make this room much more romantic.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I was going for, but yeah, it probably would,” she agrees, eyeing Sam with curiosity.

“Dean and Cas could use some romance,” Sam states, a cheeky smile on his lips.

“Them and pretty much everybody else,” Jody replies softly, smiling back at him.

~ ◊ ~

 

It’s almost ten when Dean finally parks the Impala in the bunker’s garage. Beth is sound asleep in the backseat, nested in a brand new pink polka dot blanket, her light brown hair sprawled on a dark raspberry pillow.

Over on the passenger seat, Cas has also fallen asleep, comfortably resting his head on a second pillow instead of the hard and cold surface of the window. He doesn’t even stir when the engine is cut off. Only his and the kid’s soft breathing can be heard in the now silent cabin.

Dean turns on his seat to take a look at Cas, before looking over at Beth. He’s trying to make sense of things right now. Of course, he knows everything’s made up; it’s just another case isn’t it? But he has to be honest here, it also kind of isn’t. Somehow it became a whole new life.

It’s a real kid in the backseat. She might be part magic or whatever, but she’s still a kid. And that’s not something Dean could ever take lightly. They’ll have to raise her, clothe her, feed her… and love her. At least, in the love department, Cas seems to be on board.

Not that Dean isn’t, of course. But he doesn’t really feel like he’s there yet because, quite frankly, he’s a little spooked by her being a supernatural creature. He doesn’t intend on being an ass about it, she’s just a kid after all, but somebody’s gonna have to keep a watchful eye on her.

“I thought it was creepy to watch people sleep,” Cas mumbles softly, eyes still closed but sporting a knowing smirk.

“I was just about to wake you, smartass. Do we wake the kid up or—”

“I’m awake,” Beth says before yawning loudly.

“Enough to walk?”

“Are we going far?”

“Nah. We’re in the garage, we just need to get inside.”

“I can walk then.”

“We won’t bring everything in tonight, only some clothes.”

“And my blanky, and my pillow,” the girl adds in a small voice.

Again, Dean is surprised by the candour Beth displays. Isn’t she supposed to be this thousand year old creature? He’ll have to ask Cas about it, hoping he might have an explanation. Because right now, Dean’s a bit confused as to how he’s supposed to be handling her. He tries for normal; that should do the trick for now.

“Yeah okay, with those too. We’ll get the rest tomorrow to move you in properly, all right?”

“Okay,” she replies with a smile, bunching the blanket in her arms, then grabbing the pillow by nothing more than her fingertips. “Ready,” she says, her little voice muffled by the fluffy fabric.

Halfway to the bedrooms, Castiel grabs a hold of Beth’s blanket since it had been slipping out of her arms. She’d been stepping on it, risking on more than one occasion to fall face first on the floor. When they get to the hall, Dean stops and ponders on how to do this.

They hadn’t talked about which room the kid should get as they figured she’d like to choose one for herself. He decides there aren’t a thousand ways to do this so he turns to the girl and offers her his best smile.

“So, Beth… this is where we all sleep. That’s my brother Sam’s room, that’s mine and that’s Castiel’s,” Dean informs her, pointing to each door. “All the other rooms are empty, so you can choose any one you’d like.”

“How come you’re not in his room?” Beth asks Castiel, tilting her head to the side.

“Hey kid, we’re not married for real, you know? We only said that so we could adopt you,” responds Dean quickly, not letting his friend even try to answer.

“But—” she starts again.

“But nothing,” insists Dean, trying his best not to sound pissy but still hoping she’ll drop the subject. “It’s pretty late, better choose a room so we can put your stuff in it.”

She looks back and forth between the two men then shrugs, deciding against being insistent.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“A couple of doors further, right over there,” Castiel answers, pointing down the hall.

“It’s far from your rooms,” she says, nibbling on her lower lip. "I don’t like when it’s dark.”

“Well you see those lights on the walls? They’re always on, even at night.” Dean shows her, flipping the main lights off so she’d see for herself.

“You can take the room right in front of the bathroom if you want, Beth. Nobody’s there,” Castiel tells her, not willing to tell her just yet who’s room that once was and why they’re not using it anymore.

“But I’ll be alone over there.”

“If that makes you feel better, I can move in the one right next to it. Would that help?”

“Oh yes! Thank you, Castiel,” the not-so-otherworldly creature exclaims, jumping on the ex-angel to give him a strong hug.

“All right,” Dean says, clapping his hands together. “It’s settled then. Want to put on your pj’s before going to meet Sam or after?” he asks, he and Castiel putting her bags down on the bed.

“Hum… after.”

“Great! Follow me!”

When they get to the library, Dean is surprised to see his brother sitting there conversing with none other than Sheriff Mills. As far as he knows, she was still in Sioux Falls the day before.

“Heya, Sam,” he says when he steps in the room. “Jody, what brings you here?” he adds, grabbing her in a quick hug.

“I heard you guys got married and had a kid, I just thought I should congratulate you in person,” she laughs, reciprocating the hug.

“Where’s the gift then? Or should I say gifts – a wedding, a kid – that’s two gifts,” Dean quips back, winking.

“But Dean—” starts Castiel.

“We’re only messing around, Cas.”

“Hello Castiel,” Jody says, turning to the dark haired man. “And I take this is Beth?” she adds, crouching down to the kid’s level.

“Yes… Beth, please meet our friend, Sheriff Jody Mills. Sheriff, this is Beth.”

“Castiel, I told you before. Call me Jody. And that goes for you too, young lady. Very happy to meet you,” she says, offering her right hand in greeting.

“My foster mom was a Sheriff.” Beth smiles, grabbing her hand back.

“So I’ve heard. I bet she’s a great lady.”

“She is. And Mama Patty is too,” she adds, a little quiver in her voice.

“I know you must miss them but know that you can call me anytime, all right? Sam, Dean and Cas are swell guys, but if you feel the need for some girl talk, I’m here for you.”

The kid only nods, seeming to be a bit overwhelmed.

“Hi Beth, I’m Sam,” the hunter says, crouching to her level as well, giving her his brightest smile.

“I know you,” she replies after a minute of observing him, tilting her head a bit to the side. Her eyes are wide and Sam is doing his best not to interpret her gaze as fearful. “The fallen one hasn’t given up on you, Sam Winchester. He will be back to claim his due. You will not escape it.”

Silence engulfs the room, massive like red velvet curtains dropping over an old theatre stage.

~ ◊ ~

Beth has been in bed for a couple of hours now but everybody’s still a little shaken by her prophecy-like introduction to Sam. The four of them are in the library, Sam and Jody back in the armchairs they had been sitting in earlier while Dean and Cas have pulled a couple of the library’s wooden chairs over.

Unlike earlier though, nobody’s sipping on any tea. Each has their own version of an alcoholic soothing agent in their hand. Some are still on their first glass, like Cas with his Peach Schnapps – Dean can’t get over the fact that he likes that crappy stuff – or Jody with her Jack on the rocks.

Dean, surprisingly, is nursing his third serving of the vintage Old Turkey he found in the bunker’s amazing wine cellar – where there wasn’t any wine, to Jody’s disappointment. As for Sam, well for once he’s the most shit-faced of all. Nobody knows how many glasses of that Old Turkey he’s had and the man himself certainly doesn’t seem to care.

“Listen Sam, maybe you should slow down a bit…” Dean tries to say to his brother.

“Really Dean?” spits Sam, slouched in his chair, flailing his gigantic arms around. “You, of all people, are gonna lecture me about drinking?”

“Look, I get that what the kid said was weird but—”

“Weird? I’d say it was fucking… more than weird,” he can only reply, clearly running low on words. “You should have just let me die back at the church.”

“Sam, she’s just a kid.”

“She’s an Oracle, Dean. She knows—” starts to interject Castiel, not picking up on Dean’s efforts to reassure his brother.

“Shut the fuck up, Cas,” growls Dean in warning, his eyes glued to his utterly drunk sibling.

“I should have closed the gates, man! Then I would have died for a good reason. Now I gotta wait for Lucifer to ride my ass again?”

“Sam—” tries Jody.

“I… I’m going to bed… can’t do this right now,” he cuts her off, failing to get up in a graceful manner.

“You need help?” asks Dean, even if he knows he’ll be shut out.

Sam only huffs as a response. When he’s finally able to get up, hanging on to the armchair’s high backrest, he mumbles something that doesn’t sound like anything remotely English, or even human, and starts a wobbly walk towards his room.

Nobody dares to speak for a good fifteen minutes, wanting to make sure that Sam would be out of earshot and, if they’re lucky enough, already asleep he was so drunk.

“Okay! What the hell, dude?” finally snaps Dean, turning to Castiel.

“What?”

“Can’t you see Sam’s freaking out? I don’t think it was the right time to confirm that yeah, the kid’s probably right.”

“Would you prefer I lied?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, man. But, you know… just be compassionate or something.”

“I thought I was. I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t want to make him feel worse.”

Dean wipes a hand over his face then exhales, trying to calm himself down.

“That’s all right… it’s just… she can’t be right, can she?” he asks, bringing his voice down to a more acceptable level.

“Are you asking for real, or…?”

“The truth, Cas.”

“I’m afraid she is, Dean. She said it herself; the visions come to her without warning. I don’t know what she saw exactly, but she seems to have seen… hum…”

“Lucifer’s return?”

“Most probably.”

“You think she can tell us when and where?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. But I will ask her tomorrow.”

“You might wanna tell her to cool it with the ominous news too. Or I don’t know, to sugar-coat it a bit.”

“Dean, she’s six years old,” counters Jody, only now daring to jump in the conversation.

“You were there, Jody. You saw that was no six year old kid that told my brother he was gonna be the devil’s meat puppet again.”

“Dean, I think she’s mostly a child. Until the Oracle needs to speak,” Castiel ponders.

“So you’re telling me she’s possessed?”

“Yes… and no.”

“Does Beth know about the Oracle? Are they like two separate people?” asks Jody, never having been explained as to what an Oracle consists of.

“Yes, she knows. Like I told Dean before, it’s the first time an Oracle has been woven into flesh so, it’s very difficult to know exactly how it works. I’m pretty sure that we’ll know more once we talk to Beth. But what I think is happening is that, from the day she was born until Metatron’s spell, she was a regular human child who could somehow foretell the future.”

“And what did Metatron do?”

“As far as I know, he did nothing. But the Fall seems to coincide with the Oracle waking up. Or making itself known. Not sure yet exactly how it all works.”

“I have to admit, to me it does look like she’s possessed though,” Dean says, a bit calmer than before. “Because, I swear, sometimes she’s just like any other little girl. Then all of a sudden she speaks all weird like you and she’s like this whole other person,” he adds, raising a hand towards Castiel.

“Well, that makes me hope that she might not remember everything the Oracle sees,” spits the sheriff, crossing her arms on her chest. “If they’re indeed two people in one body, I wouldn’t want a real kid to be subjected to constant visions of death.”

“An Oracle does not only see death,” Castiel explains.

“Maybe… It might be the mother in me talking, but it breaks my heart to think that she’s having such nightmarish visions, would it only be once in her whole life.”

Dean leans forward on his chair and finds Jody’s eyes before talking to her in a soothing voice. “Look Jody, I get it. I’m hoping that’s not what’s happening either. But even if it is, I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it. We’ll just have to deal, all right?”

“Might be better if I went to bed too. This is just bringing a lot of stuff up.” She tries to smile but it never reaches her eyes. “You boys should go to bed too, kids usually wake up early. Doesn’t matter how late they went to bed,” she adds before going the same way Sam had gone earlier.

“I never thought it’d be this hard,” breathes Dean when he’s alone with the ex-angel.

“What?”

“Well, you might have noticed all the tension? We just got here like three hours ago.”

“It’s a big change, we just have to get used to it.”

“No Cas! I wouldn’t qualify having some kid coming in and threatening my brother as a big change.”

“She didn’t threaten him, Dean. She only—”

“I know, she only tells the truth. Doesn’t make it better, dude!”

“I wish I knew how to reassure you.”

“You could start by telling me that whatever the Oracle says isn’t set in stone.”

Castiel drops his eyes to his almost empty glass before bringing it to his lips. He drinks the last of his Schnapps, bracing himself. Savouring the fading taste of the sweet drink on his tongue, he tries his best to find the right answer to the hunter’s question.

“I think the word of the Oracle is called truth because it is infallible. It knows all and doesn’t lie,” he starts, raising a hand to prevent Dean from interrupting him. “I had never heard of a diverted prophecy but then I met you and your brother. Against all odds you were able to derail the Apocalypse, which had been foretold since the dawn of time. So, as far as Oracles go, I’d say the Winchesters have the upper hand in deciding what’s to happen or not.”

Dean finds he has nothing to answer to his friend’s response. He can’t even find an accurate counter argument. Not that he thinks his brother and he are the big chiefs or anything, but he can’t argue that they indeed shot the Apocalypse right in the face.

Okay, friends had died in the process. Hell, Sam and Cas had died, even if only temporarily. But yeah, the Apocalypse never concluded, and Lucifer was back rotting in his cage with Michael (and Adam, as much as he hates to think about that). But now it all seems to be temporary.

“Thanks, dude. You’re right,” Dean finally says before downing the last of his drink. “Whatever the kid saw, we’ll deal with it. I certainly won’t let my brother be Satan’s condom again."

“Neither would I, that’s a promise,” Castiel reassures him with a smile. “So, you’re going to sleep or…?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty beat, it’s a wonder I’m still conscious after the day we had.”

“You can sleep in tomorrow, I’ll take care of Beth.”

“Yeah, guess we’ll need to work on some kind of schedule, huh? But yeah, okay, tomorrow morning’s all yours, thanks.”

“We can talk more about it all tomorrow then.”

“Great! Good night Cas,” Dean says, getting up from his chair.

“Hum… Dean?” Castiel stops him, getting up as well.

“Yeah?”

“Before you go… I have this favour to ask of you.”

“Really? Now?” Dean all but whines. “Okay, shoot!”

“No, it’s just… I notice you often, if not always, refer to Beth as “the kid”.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Just saying… she might appreciate that you’d call her by her name.”

“I don’t think—” Dean starts but it seems Cas is getting better at that sad puppy eyes thing. He snorts and rolls his eyes before grabbing his friend’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you, Dean. It means a lot.” Castiel smiles, grabbing Dean’s hand with his own. “Good night,” he adds.

But they don’t move, lost in one of those timeless moments, their eyes locked together. An onlooker, not knowing they both are at the end of their rope, tired, could interpret their half lidded eyes as tentatively seductive. But neither of them is thinking about anything remotely sexy. Still, if anyone asked, neither of them could ever attempt to say what it is they are doing at that particular moment except maybe taking a bit of comfort in one another.


	6. It’s The Winchesters’ Show

“Look, Dean, it’s not like we’ll be gone for a long time.”

“I said no, Cas! Wasn’t last week’s run-in with those demons close enough of a call for you?”

“They never saw her, or me. You’re the one who thought it’d be better to just go off and kill them.”

“So what? I should have let them go? They were getting too close for comfort.”

Castiel sighs loudly, both hands on his hips and giving Dean a hard glare. After a while, seeing as the hunter isn’t backing down, the ex-angel shakes his head, sighing once more.

“Dean… Beth’s been here three weeks and she’s been out of the bunker once. Once!” he insists, louder.

“We knew that would happen when we brought her here. We apparently can’t even go in town without running into demons. We don’t know if they were here for her or not, but we can’t take the chance to let her wander around. And you gotta remember that angels want her too.”

“I know. But they can’t know who she is just by looking at her.”

“Demons apparently can’t. But we don’t know about angels. And even if they can’t, they all know who _we_ are. They see either of us with a kid and they just might wanna take her only to fuck with us. Then, surprise, it’s that damn Oracle they’ve been looking for.”

“She’s not going to be happy, Dean.”

“Well, as _parents_ , that’s what we have to do. Make decisions for the sake of our kid. Even if she hates it.”

“But… she wants to find decorations and a gift for Sam’s birthday.”

“We don’t do birthdays, Cas.”

“Correction. _You didn’t_ do birthdays.”

Again, Cas is right. Of course he is. Beth must be overjoyed at the idea of throwing Sam a birthday party. Birthdays, for any normal kid, usually mean cake, gifts, balloons, clowns – that would be the funniest shit ever – and more. They didn’t have much of those growing up but it doesn’t mean they should be perpetuating such a lame tradition.

“All right. I can go get the stuff, but she can’t come. I don’t mind explaining it to her if you prefer, I’m already the strict one anyway. I’ll have my phone and send pictures so she can choose Sam’s gift.”

“That’s a good idea. She’ll be disappointed, but I can explain it to her. Any idea what Sam would like?”

“I don’t know… probably a book, as if we don’t have enough here. Or some boring documentary.”

“I’ll see what Beth is thinking and we’ll give you a list. Do we have anywhere to go, like on a hunt or something?”

“Everything’s pretty calm right now, weirdly enough.”

“Okay, so we could prepare something for Sam’s birthday tomorrow then.”

“Fine with me."

~ ◊ ~

Going to the only Wal-Mart for miles on a Saturday afternoon hadn’t been on Dean’s list of things he never wanted to do. But after having now lost three hours driving to Concordia, trying to find a decent parking spot, and going round and round in the store to locate all the crap Beth wanted for Sam’s surprise party, it’s now pretty much on top of said list.

And it’s not like he’s even done yet. He now has to wait in line at what seems to be the register with the slowest cashier ever. He can’t see much of the guy from where he is but he looks like a short stubby old man. _“Great, I got in the senior citizen’s line,”_ he tells himself, thinking how changing now would only make him go back to the end of any of the other already long lines.

So he decides to suck it up and wait, picking up some random gossip rag – sadly there’s no Busty Asian Beauties, damn you Wal-Mart – and doesn’t bother looking at anything but pictures. That girl’s hot, that one’s really not, that kind of crap. When finally he sees the conveyor belt clear up in front of him, he exhales, seeing the fast approaching end to his nightmare.

On go the packs of _Tangled_ themed party hats, flutes and napkins that are all Beth’s idea, to Dean’s utter delight. Of course, he has chosen to ignore the fact that she thinks Sam resembles Flynn and that Dean looks like Rapunzel. It’s still princess crap, with lilac frills, and it’s all for Sam.

After the necessary cake mix, frosting and candles – all in pink because why the hell not – follow the gift stuff; _Ken Burn’s National Parks_ DVD set, the latest John Grisham novel and a big purple stuffed moose that Beth chose after Dean had sent her a dozen random pictures. It’s not like they had ever told her Sam was called Moose by Crowley and yet somehow she seemed to have guessed it. It’s this or his brother actually looks like a damn moose.

When she saw the purple horror – it wasn’t what Dean had sent a picture of, it had just happened to be in the background – she called him immediately, squealing, saying how that was the _perfect_ gift for Sam and that he _had_ to buy it. And hell if that wasn’t the moment he realised he had come to love that kid as if she was his own.

He’s so wrapped up in his mind that he doesn’t pay attention to the old dude scanning article after article. He doesn’t even hear the amount for the whole sale before producing one of his many credit cards.

“I’ve always found it ironic for The Righteous Man to be so keen on committing credit card fraud.”

Now that got the hunter’s attention. He tenses, grasping the handle of the angel blade he now always keeps under his jacket and looks at what he thought had been a generic old man. It still kinda is, but with a face he knows and didn’t think he’d ever see again.

“Metatron…” he hisses, carefully glancing around. The place is packed and, right now, there’s no way of knowing who’s who so he can’t very well launch an attack.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’m on my own. And it’s not like your little blade here can do anything against me anyway.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Working, obviously. With Heaven shut down and empty, I find myself getting quite bored.”

“So what, being a cashier at Wal-Mart’s like your dream job?”

“Of course not, silly. I’m only here because I knew _you_ would be here. We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you. All I want is to fucking stab you in the neck,” Dean snarls, trying his best to keep the volume down.

“Well, you can’t… so how about we just go for coffee instead?” the scribe offers with a smarmy smile.

“Fuck you,” Dean spits, leaning over the counter to get into the smaller man’s space.

“Now, now. Don’t make me call security. I merely wish to congratulate you on the new addition to your little family.”

“You stay the fuck away from her!”

“If I wanted her, I would have taken her already. Now grab your bags and drive to the Biggerson’s you saw on your way in town. I’ll meet you there in five.”

Fuming, Dean puts the bags back in the cart and pushes it towards the exit. He almost runs to his car, pestering against all that is holy. When he gets to the Impala, he hardly has time to open the trunk before he gets jumped by a couple of teenagers. Other Wal-Mart employees by the looks of it, but clearly too strong to simply be human.

Thankfully, Dean is able to grab his angel blade without losing a beat and he stabs the closer of the two in the ribs. A bluish glow seeps out of the wound: Angels.

The second angel is able to kick Dean in the hand that’s holding the blade, which causes the weapon to fly under a nearby car. The first angel he has wounded is still on his feet, only wavering a bit. Dean’s starting to feel pretty much fucked at this point.

All over the parking lot, people are starting to notice the brawl. Dean hadn’t parked too close to the doors but they certainly weren’t in a deserted area. He can see two men coming towards them and Dean wants to yell at them to stay back but the second angel’s palm arrives on his forehead and has him choking on his words. That’s it, he’s done, hasta la vista baby!

“Close your eyes,” someone screams and Dean doesn’t hesitate, knowing what’s to come. There’s this high-pitch vibration in his ears, then the crisp smell of singed feathers, a stink Dean has come to recognize over the years. Something killed the angels.

“Get in the car, Dean. We can’t stay here.”

Dean opens his eyes and there’s Metatron again, sporting his gray knitted sweater rather than the blue vest he had in the store. Seeing people coming their way, Dean throws the bags in the trunk and closes it before pushing the cart out of the way.

It’s not like he wants to have that dick sitting in his Baby but right now, he has to leave. He’ll be dealing with the guy as soon as he can breathe a bit more easily.

“You don’t need to get on the highway, Dean. Biggerson’s right over—”

“Look man, if I have to endure your ugly mug, I’ll need something stronger than coffee. There’s a bar a couple of miles over so that’s where I’m going.”

“Fine.”

And of course, Dean finds himself suddenly sitting across Metatron in the dingy bar he had spotted earlier.

“What the fuck,” he yelps, stepping on the now non-existing brake pedal in pure reflex.

“You’re too stressed, Dean. You might wanna relax a bit,” the shorter man offers, still with his dirty smile, pushing a glass of amber coloured liquid in front of him. “Drink up! It’s your favourite.”

The hunter is tempted to just throw the glass back in his face but he decides he does need a bit of a drink instead.

“Where’s—”

“Your muscle car’s parked right outside, it’s fine. Stop worrying, would you?” Metatron says, taking his own glass and clinking it against Dean’s, who huffs and pulls back his tumbler.

“Like hell I’m gonna toast with you. You’re insane.”

“Fine, be all pissy. May I remind you that I just saved your life?”

“You fucking prick! If you hadn’t shut down Heaven, you wouldn’t have had to.”

“True… I guess we’re even then?”

Dean has to bite down on his tongue and count to ten because all he wants to do right now is jump on the guy and scrape that pompous expression off his face. But the douche’s right, he doesn’t have the necessary weapons to do him any harm… yet.

“Not even close,” he still answers in a growl.

“Your prerogative I guess. Now, down to business… How’s the marital life suiting you?”

“Fuck you!”

“That bad, huh? Hubby’s not putting out? I’m surprised, really. When I heard about the blessed event, I honestly thought you guys had found your happily ever after… or your apple pie life, however you wish to call it,” Metatron says, his tone sickly sweet.

“You seem to know everything, so you know we’re not married.”

“And that’s a real shame. I had high hopes for you two.”

Working on steadying his breathing, Dean decides he can’t pay any mind to anything that the cockroach is saying. All he wants is to get under his skin, put ideas in his mind. The angels that attacked him were probably his own goons to begin with.

“My patience is running thin, so talk,” Dean demands, wanting the meeting to end.

“Jeez, you’re annoying. You can’t even take a minute to sit here with your old pal?”

“Oh, believe me, we’re the furthest things from pals. You fucking killed Kevin.”

“Whoa now! First, I did not kill him. I don’t kill people.”

“You had some dick angel do it for you. Same difference.”

“His time had come, Dean. Prophets are outdated, Kevin Tran died for the greater good.”

“He was just a kid.”

“Kids die every day. Its done, better you just get over it.”

“You motherfucker… I can’t wait to kill you.”

“I know, I love you too. Now, let’s talk about your daughter, shall we? Can I call her that? Does she call you daddy? Or is Castiel the daddy? Does that make you the mommy?”

“I swear to God—”

“You can swear to God all you want, He ain’t listening. And I should know, ’cause that’s me now. The other one? He’s gone, He’s given up. But I’m taking over. And if you and your little group of misfits stay in my good graces, I might just not squash you like the insignificant bugs you are.”

“I’d rather die.”

“You might just do that then. But then you brother will die too. And your boyfriend. And your daughter. Is that what you want?”

“Pretty sure you don’t care what I want. Looks more like _you_ want something.”

“Perhaps. First, know that I don’t _need_ that little snitch of yours because I know all that’s to happen. But you see, the kids aren’t too happy to have been locked out of their home. They’re preparing for war right as we speak. Not against me, because they can’t do much against their new Father, but against Hell.”

“Why?”

“Oh, interested now, are we? You won’t be surprised to learn that it’s all about you, again – or that kid of yours, really. Demons want her, so angels want her too. They’re prepared to fight for her.”

“Demons, I get, but why angels?”

“Because now that Daddy won’t tell them what’s to happen, they’re pretty lost. They need to be told what to do. Knowing the future would just make them feel better, I suppose.”

“And you don’t mind which side gets to her?” asks Dean, more than a little suspicious.

“Not one bit. I couldn’t care less, frankly.”

“Then why are you telling me all this?”

“I told you… I’m bored,” Metatron pouts with a shrug. “It’s going to be fun to watch you little humans try to get in the middle of it all,” he adds with a chuckle.

And as suddenly as they had arrived in the bar, Dean is back in his car but he’s alone. He’s glad to see he’s not on the road but rather parked outside the bar. Weirdly enough, it’s already night and he looks at the time. He’s lost about four hours since battling the angels in the parking lot. On his phone, the red light is pulsing. Of course he’s got messages.

Seeing that both Sam and Cas have called him repeatedly, he doesn’t bother listening to any voice mails and just calls his brother back. He’s not even sure the first ring is over when he hears Sam’s worried voice in his ear.

“Dean! What the hell! Did you really need a drink that bad?”

“What… how… oh, you checked the GPS. No, I swear I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? Cas is close to being hysterical.”

“Ran into Metatron. He must have done something because I lost four hours just now. I’m driving back and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Metatron? He’s not dead I take?”

“I wish,” Dean breathes, turning the key in the ignition. “Should be there in an hour, tell Cas I’m fine.”

~ ◊ ~

Of course, Cas and Sam are waiting for Dean in the war room when he gets back to the bunker. Beth is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s the kid?” he asks.

“In her room. She’s “working on something”,” Castiel answers, again using the air quotes and winking at him. Dean looks at his brother and sees his amused grin. Of course he knows what’s going on.

“Good. Not sure I want her to hear this. Do we have beer?”

“I’ll go grab some, you stay here,” Castiel says, trotting away to the kitchen.

“What’s with him?” asks Dean to his brother, finding their friend a bit weirder than usual.

“Well, to say he was beside himself when he learned you were cornered by Metatron is an understatement. He’s been all fidgety since I told him what you said.”

“You told him I was fine, right?”

“Of course, but he was still worried.”

“Man, this guy as a human is so—”

“So what, Dean?” they hear Castiel say from behind them. They hadn’t heard him come back.

“So… you know,” Dean hesitates, waving a hand at him.

“I’m afraid I don’t. Please enlighten me.”

“It’s nothing bad. It’s just, I guess, you still need to get a hold on your emotions. Maybe?”

“Of course. Being worried for you has to be construed as being emotionally unstable.”

“Come on, dude, that’s not what I said. I swear… See? I’m fine; I’m here, all in one piece. No need to fret.”

“I see that. But please don’t invalidate my feelings. I was scared for your well-being and I don’t see why I shouldn’t express it. Same goes for you, Sam Winchester.”

“So you guys wanna know what happened or what?” Dean chooses to say, unwilling to see his day end in a psycho-pop session with the angel.

“Please,” Sam encourages him, apparently in the same mindset as Dean.

“So, I was in the check-out line at Wal-Mart, getting ready to pay for my stuff and the cashier’s fucking none other than Metatron.”

“What was he doing there?”

“Waiting for me he said. So of course I threatened him but the place was packed and, well, I can’t kill him even if I wanted to. He said he wanted to have a chat. So I leave but then get jumped by two teenage angels. They almost killed me.” Dean is thankful to see both men are taking the news rather well so far. Well, he’s not dead now, is he?

“How did you get rid of them?” asks Sam.

“I didn’t. Metatron did.”

“He stopped them?”

“He killed them. Saved my life.”

“Why would Metatron help you?” Castiel asks, eyes squinted.

“Hell if I know. Don’t care at this point. People started running to us so we just fled the scene. He transported us to a bar since he wanted to chat so badly. We talked for what, no more than thirty minutes? And then I was back in my car except it was four hours later.”

“You had a _chat_ with Metatron?”

“What did you want me to do, Sammy? I can’t kill the guy. He can pretty much do anything he wants. So I listened.”

“And he said…?” Sam pushes him.

“That he knows about Beth, but he claims he doesn’t want her. He said the angels are preparing to battle the demons over her though.”

“Why?”

“The angels need a reason to be, a goal. There’s no one to give them purpose anymore, I doubt that Metatron cares much for them. The Oracle’s visions of the future would at least give them some sense of direction,” Castiel explains.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what he said. And his reason for telling us is that he can’t wait to see us get in the middle of it all. All because the fucker’s bored.”

“Then we won’t get in the middle of it,” concludes Sam.

“I think we already are, Sammy. Beth is part of this family now, we’re certainly not gonna let anyone get their filthy hands on her.”

“Of course not, but we could try and hide?”

“I think we’re hidden as much as we could ever be. This place’s warded against everything demonic or angelic. As long as Beth stays in, she’ll be all right.”

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” they hear Beth chant while running into the war room. Her hair is all mingled and she’s sporting a smear of green paint on her cheekbone.

“Hey honey! What’cha been doin’?” he asks, taking the girl over on his lap.

“Drawing, and stuff,” she whispers, trying to wink. “I’m happy you’re okay,” she says again, but this time in a normal voice, hugging him at the neck.

“Come on guys, why did you—” he starts, but stops when he sees his friend and brother slightly shaking their heads, confirming they hadn’t said a thing to her.

“Beth? Do you know what happened to me?”

“Huh huh! Metatron killed the angels that attacked you and then you talked.”

Uneasy, Dean takes the girl’s arms and unhooks them from his neck. He needs to look her in the eyes. All he sees in the golden irises is the sweet six-year-old kid he’s grown so quickly to love staring back at him. No trace of the Oracle, not at this moment.

“Did you just see this?”

“No, I dreamt about it.”

“When? You took a nap?”

“Last night. It happens sometimes. I see things when I sleep.”

Dean isn’t so much troubled now, instead feeling anger settling in. He takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down before letting the girl off his lap. He still puts his hands on her shoulders so she won’t get away from him.

“Tell me you just remembered it now. Tell me you didn’t let me leave here knowing I’d get attacked by angels,” he asks sternly.

“Dean, let her go,” warns Castiel, worried.

“Shut up, Cas! Answer me, Beth. Did you know?” Dean asks again, this time a bit louder.

“Ye… yes… but…” the girl stutters, her eyes now shining from unshed tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean growls. He doesn’t want to scare her, he really doesn’t, but she can’t know stuff like that and not say anything.

“Dean, I said enough,” exclaims Castiel, taking Dean’s hands off Beth.

“Cas, she knew! She _knew_ they were coming and she didn’t tell me!”

“Beth, look at me,” says Castiel in a much softer tone, crouching down to her height. “Don’t worry, Dean’s not mad at you, but he needs to understand. We all do.”

“But… but Dean said… I can’t tell people my visions. Not if it’s bad,” she explains in a shaky voice. “And I know that I should tell one of you… but I saw Dean was okay. I’m sorry, Dean,” she adds, now fully crying. “I won’t do it again, I promise I’ll tell someone next time.”

Beth is sobbing in Castiel’s arms, her face hidden in his neck; both he and Sam are giving their most epic bitch faces to Dean. Okay, it’s true; he had said something to that effect after the kid had told Sam Lucifer would be back for him. And yeah, maybe the concept of it all could have been a bit lost on a six year old.

Dean sighs loudly, all traces of outrage evaporated.

“I’m sorry Beth, you’re right. I did tell you that. And I have no right to be mad at you for listening to me,” Dean apologises, rubbing her back to try and soothe her crying.

“You’re not angry with me anymore?”

“I never was. I was just stressed and I took it out on you. And I shouldn’t have. Do you forgive me?”

“On one condition,” she answers, and then sniffles.

“Anything!”

“Did you buy everything for tomorrow?” she whispers in Dean’s ear. The hunter just smiles and nods, glad to see it might not take more than that to make her happy again. “Then you are forgiven,” she confirms, kissing his cheek and grabbing his hand to pull him towards the garage.

~ ◊ ~

When the phone rings at seven the next morning, Sam flirts with the idea of letting the caller go to voicemail. Still, he checks to see who it is, in case it would be someone important. Seeing the name on the screen, he decides they’re important enough to evade sleep.

“Sheriff Mills, always the early bird,” he croaks into the phone, not even bothered that he sounds less than awake.

“Sam, I got a visitor this morning. Sheriff Studwick? From New Ulm?”

At the name of Beth’s old foster mother, Sam sits up, wiping a hand on his face to try and wake himself up a bit.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Can’t say the same for her though. She’s dead.”

“What?”

“She came here, saying she wanted to talk about the fire, and Beth. Knowing who’s after the girl, I wasn’t so surprised to see her get stuck on my welcoming mat.”

“Gotta love those devil traps,” Sam agrees.

“Yeah. But her, she didn’t appreciate it so much. She got all black-eyed. I exorcised her.”

“How come she’s dead then?”

“I don’t know. She just dropped dead the second the demon was cast out.”

“Shit! She must have been already dead, then. Sorry they got to you, Jody.”

“Don’t worry about it, I knew this might happen. But I called the sheriff’s department and well… Beth’s other foster mom is dead too. And since the sheriff disappeared, they’re treating this as a domestic violence case.”

“The kids?”

“None of them were hurt, thank God. But I just wanted to let you know before I leave. In case Beth says anything about it before I get there. Bottom line, I’m okay, but her foster mothers aren’t.”

“You’re coming here? Oh, right, my surprise party…”

“Nice try, Winchester. I’m not talking.”

“Ha! Ha! Remember, we got an excited kid here who’s organising it all. So of course I know about it.”

“I would have believed you if you hadn’t seemed surprised to know I was coming over just now.”

“Okay, so maybe I don’t have all the details. I’ll act surprised when you get here then. And, just an idea but you might want to bring a couple of days worth of clothes? Not sure it’s such a good idea for you to stay in Sioux Falls on your own.”

“It’s my home, Sam. And I got a job to do. I’ll be all right. But thanks for the offer, really. See you later.”

Sam hangs up but he knows he won’t be going back to sleep. He grabs his laptop and flips it open, wondering if he’ll find anything online about the sheriff and her fiancée. It was a damn shame that they had to be caught in the crossfire like that. And Beth would probably be demolished when she’d learn about it. But, then again, it’s surprising that she would not have known already.

Maybe she isn’t that infallible after all, which, for Sam, is pretty good news.

Closing the computer’s lid, Sam gets up and puts on his running clothes. Might as well take advantage of the morning’s chilliness to exercise a bit. But first, he goes to the kitchen to start up the coffee machine. He loves coming back to the bunker with its rich smell permeating the air.

Except someone has already done that apparently because the closer he gets to the kitchen, the more his nostrils pick up on a fresh brewed aroma. In the brightly lit room, a bit too bright if Sam had anything to say about it, is sitting Dean. He’s by himself, sipping on coffee and staring intensely at his laptop.

“Hey Dean! You’re up early,” he calls while making his way to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. Sam doesn’t dare glance at the screen, since most of the time his brother’s checking out porn on that thing. And it’s way too early for that.

“Heya, Sammy! Yeah, didn’t sleep so good,” Dean shrugs, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“I could have slept some more, I kid you not,” Sam offers, sitting at the table facing his brother. “But Jody called. Sheriff Studwick went to see her this morning.”

“Problem with the death reports?”

“Don’t think so… she was possessed. Jody exorcised the demon but the sheriff still dropped dead. And her partner is too. Dead, I mean.”

“Son of a bitch! How about the kids?” Dean grumbles.

“They’re apparently fine. Beth never said anything to you about this, right?”

“No. Well, if she saw something she might have decided not to say anything because… you know. But Jody’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’ll be here later for my surprise birthday party.” Sam laughs. “Told her to stay a little bit here instead of going back alone but she refused. I don’t like it. Seems the demons are right on Beth’s tail.”

“Of course, that’s the only reason you’d want her to stay over,” Dean comments, eyes still on his screen but with a smirk on his lips.

“What other reason would I have?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sammy. I know you’re sweet on the sheriff. That’s all right, she’s a cool chick.”

“Oh… Oh, so you wanna talk about that? Then let’s do this, shall we?” Sam replies, glad to see his brother’s shoulders tense. “How ’bout you, Dean? How’s your crush coming along?”

“I don’t like her that way, you’re in the clear, man.”

“No, I know. She’s not the one you like.”

“Then who else? I love Charlie but—”

“I know you’re not that dumb, Dean, but I’ll play. I’m talking about Cas.”

“Cas? Shut up, man! The guy’s our friend.”

“Well, he’s technically your husband.”

“Technically? Not so much, no.”

“And you have a kid together.”

“Are you fucking high? We’re all, as in us three, taking care of her. She’s more like… our little sister. Or it’s like that Tom Selleck movie, the three dudes with the kid. One’s the dad and the other two help out. And if anything, Cas is mostly the dad since they share all that weirdness and whatnot.”

“Whatever you say, Dean.”

“All I see is you deflecting. We were talking about Jody.”

“ _You_ were talking about Jody.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“I don’t need to. Yeah, she’s cool and pretty and everything. But she’s in enough danger as it is, almost got killed just this morning. You know that every girl I’ve ever liked or dated is dead, right?”

“Well, not all—”

“Name one.”

Dean rolls his eyes and shrugs, finally closing the lid of his laptop.

“Look man, I don’t know, maybe you’re right. But she’s a tough chick. If you like her and she likes you, then you should just go for it. I’m not telling you to go get married, but dude… when’s the last time you got laid?”

“None of you business.”

“It was that Amelia chick, right? And see, there’s one that’s not dead,” Dean exclaims, suddenly remembering his brother’s last girlfriend.

“Yeah. She’s alive because I got out of her life, Dean. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure she’d be dead by now. And frankly, I don’t think you’re in any shape to give me advice on the subject. How long has it been for you?”

“Hey, not my fault. I was traumatised. The last girl I slept with had an Amazon baby that tried to kill me, so… excuse me for being a little on the skittish side.”

“Yeah… a condom could have saved you a whole lot of trouble. Just saying. And, just wanna point out that getting pregnant would not be a problem with Cas,” Sam mocks, getting up. “Going for a run,” he adds quickly, fleeing the kitchen before his brother can retaliate.

“Ha! Very funny, bitch! And I used a condom, all right? I was tricked!”

“Later, jerk,” Sam yells before going through the front door.

Alone once more, Dean gets up to pour some more coffee in his mug. When he sits back down, he considers opening his computer again but changes his mind. He had been searching for clues of weird activities all over the net and he hadn’t found anything interesting.

Apparently he hadn’t looked hard enough if he didn’t see anything about the two foster moms going belly up. His news routine now always started with New Ulm and everything Minnesota, trying to see if anything could be still looking for Beth over there. Then, would come the surrounding states, then the whole country.

They never encountered news of kids in school being tested again. And nothing but the regular monster events seemed to ever be happening. Since Beth’s arrival, they were going less and less on hunts. And only the ones close enough. And never again Dean and Castiel together, always Sam with either one of them.

And that’s when it hits him. Dean and Cas have stopped hunting together the minute Beth came into their lives. Without really wanting to, he has to make the parallel with those parents who will take different planes so if one of them is in a crash, their kids would only lose one parent instead of both.

That kind of means that Sam’s right about him and Cas being the kid’s parents. As in, together.

“Well, fuck me sideways…” concludes Dean, opening his computer back up, suddenly urging for some sexy Japanese animes.


	7. Angels, Demons, and Chocolate Chip Pancakes

When Sam opens his eyes, he is surprised to find himself sprawled on an old musty sofa, in a room he doesn’t recognize. Even more surprising is that he can sit and move at will. Usually, when he wakes up in an unknown environment, he’s tied up to something. Often enough it’s pipes in a basement or a warehouse.

Right now, he seems to be in a house. A dirty one in dire need of remodelling (or even demolishing by the looks of it), but a house nonetheless. There’s a window, over which curtains are drawn.

“You’re awake,” he hears Castiel say from behind him.

Oh right! He was on a hunt with Cas. They had found a lead and had gone to this old factory and then… he’s drawing a blank. He turns around to find Castiel sitting calmly in an armchair that looks just as disgusting as the couch he’s on.

“You okay, Cas?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m fine. How about you? Are you hurt?”

“Nope, all seems to be in working order. Where are we?”

“I don’t know, some random house in a generic neighbourhood. I looked outside but I can’t recognize anything. We seem to be held prisoner.”

“I figured as much. Did you try breaking the window?”

“Not yet, I didn’t want to alarm our captors before you had woken up. And whoever’s keeping us took our phones,” Castiel adds, seeing his friend palming his pockets.

“And our weapons. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried but you wouldn’t budge. It probably wasn’t a natural sleep.”

“Huh… So now what?”

“Let’s try that window then, shall we?” the ex-angel says, getting up to grab a wooden chair that had been lying on the floor.

He throws it at the window but instead of going through, the chair just sort of explodes on impact. Luckily, both men have time to duck and cover before the sharp splinters start flying all around them.

“Wow,” breathes Sam when he comes back up from hiding behind the couch.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to break that window.”

“No shit… Spell?”

“Most probably. One thing is sure; we can’t leave the room. Everything seems—”

“Unbreakable,” a woman’s voice calls from behind the only door in the room.

“Who are you?” shouts Sam, stomping to the door and banging his fist on the wood panel.

“Get away from the door, please. We’d rather introduce ourselves face to face. I assure you, we mean you no harm.”

Sam eyes the door, doubtful. Okay, the voice doesn’t sound threatening, but they had met their fair share of seemingly harmless people harbouring the most vicious individuals. He feels Castiel’s hand grip his arm and tug him backwards. He seems to be on board with the getting away from the door request.

“All right, we stepped away,” he yells again when their backs hit the wall, his whole body on alert.

“Thank you. We’re coming in,” the woman says again before opening the door.

The first person to pass the threshold is a tall and skimpy woman, her unfortunate features framed by stringy gray hair. Behind her follows a young Hispanic man, a lot shorter than her but with a much more athletic build. Only the two of them enter the room, but they can see at least three other people standing in the hall. There’s not enough light to distinguish any remarkable features. Even guessing their gender would be a hazardous feat.

“Would you like anything to drink, or eat?” the woman asks kindly.

“Something to drink would be appreciated, yes,” Castiel answers before Sam can tell them to go to hell. But to be honest, he is a little thirsty, even though he’s not too eager to drink anything those creeps will be giving them.

“Sariel, if you wouldn’t mind getting them some water,” she instructs the smaller man.

“You’re angels,” Castiel offers, more as a confirmation than anything else.

“Castiel, it’s me, Penemue,” the woman says. “I heard you have been robbed of your grace, brother. And of that, I am sorry.”

“You would be the first of our kind to feel sorry for me. Most believe it was I who boarded up our home.”

“I knew Metatron pretty well. And I know how flawed he is, plagued by many sins. Envy and greed, mainly. I never understood how Father would confide in him so much.”

The other angel, Sariel, comes back in with two bottles of spring water. Unopened. He gives one to each hunter and goes back to stand next to Penemue.

“We haven’t tampered with your water, please do not fear drinking it. And we have more if need be,” he offers, his expression stoic but his tone gentle.

“How long do you intend on keeping us here?” spits Sam, carefully examining his bottle to see that indeed, the cap seemed secure.

“We shouldn’t be taking too much of your time, but we do need to talk with you,” Penemue responds.

“You could have asked instead of kidnapping us,” Castiel berates her.

“Would you have followed us willingly?”

“Why did we have to go anywhere?”

“Other angels were after us, as well as after you. We had to hide. Please, sit,” the woman explains, walking towards the sofa and sitting down herself.

Sam glances at Castiel, who glances back. Both are clearly uncomfortable but, in silent agreement, they decide to obey and sit on the sofa. That leaves the male angel to stay on his feet. He doesn’t appear to want to move to the armchair.

“We could have used that chair you broke,” he only says, eyeing the pieces of wood scattered around the floor.

“When that happened, I was thinking we could have used being free from this room,” Castiel quips back, unimpressed.

Sam looks at him, eyebrows raised. He’s mostly amused, but also unable at this time to figure if it’s good or bad that Castiel would spend so much time with Dean.

“That’s quite all right. So let us explain why we’ve brought you here.”

~ ◊ ~

“Dean will freak out, Cas.”

“Most probably, but we have to at least try.”

“I know you said you know that Penemue angel—”

“And Ambriel, and Selaphiel…”

“Yeah, and I know you say they were good angels. But that was before the Fall. And even before, except for you, we’ve never had much luck in that department.”

“I know. Even I was what you call a “dick angel” at some point. I killed so many of my brothers, I’m surprised they didn’t smite me on principle alone.”

They’re sitting in the booth the furthest away from everyone else in the diner. At least this way they can have a decent conversation without having to whisper all the time. And they can see the waitress the second she comes their way. Like she is right now.

“Is everythin’ all right here?” she asks in a flirty tone, refilling their coffee cups.

“All is perfect, thank you,” Castiel answers with a small, but warm, smile.

“Let me know if you need _anything_ else,” she says, keeping her eyes on the ex-angel then lightly poking at his hand with a red painted fingernail.

“Hey Cas, you just let me know if you’d like a room for yourself, huh?” Sam offers with a smirk when the blonde woman has left.

“Why? We don’t have that much money, Sam. Better keep the one room.”

“I’m only saying, you might wanna have some alone time. Or actually, spend some time with Caroline over there.”

“Oh, you mean a room for sexual intercourse. No, thank you, I’m all right. I’m perfectly content with stroking my chicken.”

If Castiel had talked just a little bit faster, he probably would have received a mouthful of coffee right in the face. Instead, Sam chokes on air before breaking into hysterical laughter.

When he’s finally able to bring his hilarity down a couple of notches, a good minute later, his face is crimson red and damp from the tears he’s shed.

“I don’t see what’s so funny. Is it the chicken thing? That’s what Dean calls it,” Castiel tries to explain, only to see his friend erupt in laughter again. He rolls his eyes and huffs, disliking very much being laughed at.

“Sor… sorry Cas! I’m sorry! It’s just…” tries to explain Sam between fits of laughter. “First, you don’t _stroke your_ chicken…” he laughs some more. “It’s _choke the_ chicken… but… just so unexpected… angel of the Lord…” he wheezes, trying to calm himself down.

“It’s not _that_ funny, Sam. So I might have said it wrong. But I’m no angel of the Lord. Not anymore and not ever again,” Castiel says sorely.

Seems like Cas’ words are finally helping Sam come down from his mirth. He takes deep breaths to calming himself down. Clearly, his friend is not amused.

“I’m really sorry, Cas. I didn’t want to laugh at you. It was just so—”

“Unexpected, I know. It appears Dean was right when he said that men don’t usually talk about their self-pleasuring.”

“Oh, he said that, did he?”

“Yes. But he also agreed to answer any question I might have. He said I’d better not talk to you about it because I don’t have a vagina.”

“Ha ha! Very funny! You know I don’t either.”

“Of course you don’t. But see, now _that_ was funny.”

~ ◊ ~

The whole bunker smells like soap and bleach, there’s not a speck of dirt anywhere and Dean is still antsy, craving something to do. He’s cursing the Heavens that this place doesn’t have windows to wash and silverware to polish. At one point, he’s even tempted to go and wake up Beth so they can play one of her stupid princess board games.

It’s not like she has to go to school in the morning.

Thankfully, his phone rings before he starts to find that waking her up is a good idea.

“Heya, Cas! How’s it going? Tell me everything and don’t spare any details,” he greets his friend, a bit too cheerily.

“Hello Dean! Are you all right?”

“I’m fucking bored, man. Tell me you got juicy stuff for me.”

“How’s Beth? Good?”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s good, Beth is asleep. Now me! Bored! Go,” Dean insists, almost pleading.

“You might want to sit down, Dean. It’s a big one,” he hears Sam say. He appears to be on speaker.

“Hey Sam! Okay, I’m listening.”

“So, we ran into some angels.”

“Was Metatron there to kill them for you?”

“Not so much, no. At first they kidnapped us, but only so we wouldn’t make a fuss.”

“Of course,” Dean growls. “Totally legit, Sam!”

“They only wanted to talk to us, but they knew we probably wouldn’t follow them. They said they had malevolent angels after them and that they were coming after us too,” explains Castiel.

“And you believed them?”

“We can’t know for sure but they seemed truthful enough. I do know some of them, they were good soldiers, we battled alongside each other for many centuries.”

“Yeah, I bet they’re real sweethearts,” huffs Dean, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what now? They’ve let you go, so you’re coming back home?”

“They asked for our help, Dean. They want to open Heaven back up again.”

“How? It’s not like we have the key. Pretty sure they’re only trying to get their hands on Beth.”

“Dean, they don’t even seem to know about her, or about the Oracle,” counters Sam, but not sounding assertive enough.

“Really? And you’re willing to take that chance?”

“Of course not.”

“So what are you saying, guys? I seriously can’t tell what it is you’re trying to tell me.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just, we know you’re not too keen on angels.”

“Do you blame me?”

“Not at all, but—”

“Dean, my family needs my help. The Fall might be Metatron’s doing, but I did help him. He tricked me, I know that, but I was still an accessory to his crimes.”

“Yeah, you got duped Cas. And now some other angels are asking for your help and you want to walk into that same trap all over again. For fuck’s sake, Cas, stop being so gullible.”

“I’m not as naive as you think, Dean. Of course I know they might be lying to us. And of course I’m worried they want Beth. I am painfully aware of it all.”

“Then what’s the problem? Forget about those douche nozzles and come back home.”

“Dean… they told us what the spell was,” Sam says.

“We know what it was; the bow, the nephilim and the grace of an angel.”

“Well… apparently Metatron needed Cas. Specifically.”

“Did they say why?”

“They don’t know. But I might have an idea.”

“You didn’t tell me that, Sam. What did you figure out?” Castiel asks, sounding surprised.

“It’s not important for now. But I’m fairly convinced that if they want to access Heaven again, they won’t harm us.”

“So what? You guys decided we’re helping the winged dicks? No offense, Cas.”

“None taken.”

“I think we should agree to stay in contact with them. And if we can help them, then we should. Honestly, if they all could just go back upstairs, it’d make our lives a trillion times easier.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we have Beth to think of. She’s our priority, Sam.”

“I agree with Dean. If at any time we think her security might be compromised, I don’t have a problem telling my brothers and sisters to forget about us helping them. But if they are being truthful, they might become an asset in our attempts to protect her.”

“Okay. So, long distance relationship only, right? They won’t pop-up in the bunker, right?”

“Not unless we want them to, no. It’s warded against angels. They also say they’ve cut themselves off from the angel radio so they won’t be found out by the others. That must be why they might not know about the Oracle.”

“Nothing more than phone calls. I swear if I see just one—”

“We know, Dean, we know!”

“Right! So when are you guys coming back? Saw something in the paper yesterday, there might be some werewolf activity in the next state. You have no idea how I’m itching to kill some sons of bitches right now.”

“We’re still in Wyoming…”

“Appleton,” specifies Castiel.

“So we’ll leave first thing tomorrow and try to get there early enough.”

“Dean, if we’re not back when Beth goes to bed, have her call me, all right?”

“Of course, you big sap.”

“You’re one to talk. You do the same when you’re away.”

“Shut up! So I’ll see you guys tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow, Dean.”

~ ◊ ~

Again, the night is a long one for Dean. He can’t sleep, his mind plagued by everything Cas and Sam have told him over the phone. But he knows that’s not all of it. He just can’t understand how they have an Oracle living under their roof and still keep getting blind-sided by everyone like that.

Well, it’s been made clear that if they were blind-sided, the kid pretty much never was. But she always had a damn good excuse not to tell them. First, Metatron had been Dean’s fault that she had never said anything. But then, her foster mothers getting killed? She had argued that they were supposed to be dead so they couldn’t very well warn anyone. And Jody? Beth claimed that vision came to her as a dream, she just forgot about it when she woke up.

And it is tearing Dean apart. The kid is adorable and with every passing day, his love for her just grows stronger. But then, with all these events and her not letting them know they are to happen, he’s starting to wonder if she’s doing it on purpose. And he hates himself for even thinking it, but someone has to. When it comes to Beth, he certainly can’t count on Cas to be remotely impartial.

At least he might have a chance to try and discuss this with his brother. He loves the girl too, but Dean doesn’t think he’s as emotionally invested. Which is another notion he’s choosing not to think about right now.

To have angels kidnapping his brother and friend, notwithstanding that they only wanted to talk, is kind of the last straw for Dean. If the kid knew it was going to happen, yet again, and didn’t say shit about it, something’s gonna have to be done.

His internal ramblings are interrupted by his phone’s ringtone. Half past three, this better be fucking important. He glances at the screen only to see the call coming from a private number. He’s tempted to dismiss it but what the hell he’s awake anyway.

“What?” he answers, not feeling like being nice about having someone call him at this hour.

“Well hello there, Squirrel.”

“Fuck you, Crowley!”

“Not that kind of call, but thanks for the offer. Got a minute for your favourite King of Hell?”

“Talk fast!”

“You’re grumpy, but all right! You have something I need.”

“I doubt that what I got for you, you’d like.”

“Again with the attitude. Can’t you be civil for one bloody minute?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“You have the leverage I need to get to Abaddon.”

“Leverage? How do you figure?”

“The girl, Dean.”

“Christ! Is there a newsletter out there we don’t know about?”

“I’m the King. I know things.”

“Well, you can tell your gorillas to back off ’cause I’ll kill every single one of them before they get to touch a hair off her head. And the same goes for you!”

“I don’t want the little bugger. And it’s not my guys out there trying to get to her, it’s Abaddon’s.”

“You just said—”

“She’s leverage, Dean. I don’t want her, but Abaddon certainly does. So do the angels.”

“You’re not telling me anything new. What the fuck do you want then?”

“I want my throne back,” Crowley barks into Dean’s ear. “I want Abaddon dead and buried again. For good this time.”

“What are you telling me this for?”

“Because you did it once, you can do it again. You owe me this much!”

“I don’t owe you shit!”

“Your brother tried to make me bloody human! I still have nightmares about it.”

“Oh cry me a river, you demon fuck! You killed Sarah. You almost killed Jody. For that alone you deserve to have an angel blade buried deep in your stupid face.”

“Fine, let’s agree to disagree then. Just know this, love. I don’t need your sodding kid, all right? But Abaddon wants her real bad. So when you finally come to your senses, ring me.”

And the line goes dead. It’s only when he hears the phone’s plastic case crack that Dean realises he had been clenching his fist on the device. At least this time he hadn’t thrown the thing at the wall.

He drops the phone on his bed and buries his face in his hands. Metatron was probably having the time of his life right now, seeing all of this crap unfold. Even if they would have wanted to stay out of it, every-fucking-body pretty much knew now that the Oracle was with them.

“Dean?” Beth calls him from the hall, her voice shaky, peeking her head in the open door.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Why are you screaming?”

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Yes. Are you mad?”

“No, honey, I’m not mad. Come on in,” he says, patting on the bed. “That stupid guy I know called me and we kind of argued. But I’m okay now.”

“Was it Crowley?”

Again, Dean feels that cold shiver run down his spine. It happens every time he gets more proof that she doesn’t tell them everything. But once more, he chooses to talk to her instead of exploding like he did the first time. If that makes him a sucker, then so be it.

“How do you know about Crowley?”

“I saw you talking to him in my dream.”

“Do you know what we talked about?”

“Abaddon. She’s mean,” the girl says with a pout. “She’s the demon who wants me most. But Crowley doesn’t.”

“And you think he’s telling the truth?”

The golden-eyed child just shrugs, making herself comfortable resting against the hunter’s chest.

“I talked to Cas and Sam earlier,” he starts, hoping he can put his doubts to rest.

“Did they meet Penemue?” she replies and again, that sense of dread overcomes him.

“Beth… the angels kidnapped them. They could have killed them,” he tells her, unable to keep his voice from trembling he’s so upset.

“I knew they only wanted to talk, that they wouldn’t hurt them. I promise Daddy, I would tell you if it was dangerous,” she explains, her small voice shaky again.

But Dean doesn’t hear anything beyond the word Daddy. She’s never called him anything but Dean. She calls Cas by his name too, as far as he knows. And now, she’s trembling, like she’s afraid of him, but she still called him Daddy.

He still has that little annoying voice in the back of his head. That same one that’s always reminding him how inadequate and unworthy he really is. It’s telling him that the child is blatantly manipulating him. Only calling him Daddy to divert his attention from the real issue at hand.

And even if it isn’t a diversion technique, why him? She clearly likes Cas way more, as she should. He certainly doesn’t doubt her one bit, and he was an angel… kind of still is in his own quirky way.

But then he decides he doesn’t care. Not right now anyway. He finds that he wants to bathe in that love, would it only be for a moment. Believe in it and cherish it.

So he hugs her tight, pets her hair and waits for her tremors to subside. He hums his mother’s song under his breath, rocking her so she’ll fall asleep in his arms. He doesn’t want to talk about her visions right now. Nor does he want to know why she keeps what she sees from them.

He knows this is a talk that will have to happen, but now’s not the time. No, at this moment he’s taking comfort in her warmth against his side, his nose in her caramel hair, breathing in the smell of that apple shampoo she likes so much.

“Can I stay here with you, Daddy?” she asks, her voice tainted by sleep.

The girl’s words are like tiny daggers piercing his heart, but he still smiles. Delicately, he wraps his side of the blanket over her little body then kisses her softly on the forehead.

“Sleep tight, baby girl. Daddy’s watching over you.”

~ ◊ ~

Beth is alone on Dean’s bed when she wakes up. She’s still wrapped in his blanket but he’s not in the room anymore. She doesn’t see a clock, like in hers or Castiel’s room, so she doesn’t know if it’s morning yet.

This is one feature she misses from her old home. She had a window in her room so she could see outside, that way she’d know when it was day or night. Every room had a window, even the bathroom.

But here you need a watch or a clock to know for sure. Maybe her daddies would buy her a watch if she asked nicely. A pretty one, pink and purple, like the one her friend Emily has. She misses Emily, and her other friends from school. Beth wonders if they know that she died in that fire.

Not that she did for real, but that’s what Jody told Mama Kay and Mama Patty, and Mr. Wagner too. Maybe they told her teacher, Mrs. Bentley, and then she would have told her friends. Beth misses them all, but she tries real hard not to be too sad about it.

Since Dean isn’t coming back, Beth decides to get up and go find him. But before starting to look for him she goes to grab Barney, Sam’s purple moose, from her room. Because every time Sam is away, he asks her to keep an eye on him. And since Sam has been gone a lot, Barney pretty much lives in her room now.

She also decides that the floor is too cold, so she puts on some slipper socks. She loves them, they’re pink and fluffy and have little hearts sewn on them. The rubber thingies on the feet so she doesn’t slip when she walks are also shaped like little hearts. They really are her favourite socks.

Even though she knows Castiel and Sam are not supposed to be back yet, Beth still peeks in their rooms to check. It would happen sometimes that whoever was away would come back earlier than they had said. But apparently, not this time. Both rooms are dark and empty.

The closer she gets to the kitchen, the more she can hear someone talking. Maybe they had come back after all but just didn’t go to bed. Soon enough, she realises she can only hear Dean’s voice.

“I swear, it freaked me out, dude! Did she ever say anything like that to you?” Beth hears the hunter say. Knowing he must be talking about her, she stops and waits. It takes a minute before he starts talking again, so he must be on the phone.

“Yeah, it was weird… No, I don’t hate it, but it’s kinda soon isn’t it? No, I don’t know when but it’s only been two months, Cas.”

So he’s talking to Castiel. Beth sadly thinks how she forgot to look at the time on the clock in her room and wonders if it’s the middle of the night still. Or maybe it’s day and Sam is driving the car while Cas is talking to Dean.

“Like I said, the timing was a bit weird… Why not? Well, I wouldn’t bet on that. You heard Jody. If anything, she’s just doing that girl thing she explained… I know, right? But, she must know what she’s talking about, she was a girl… a little girl, I mean.”

Dean stops talking again for a little while. Beth knows they are talking about her but she’s not sure why. She tries to think if she has had any vision she would not have shared recently, but she can’t think of anything. Well, except for Crowley calling and them meeting the angels.

Whatever he said, she knows Dean hasn’t been happy with her. And apparently, he still isn’t. That must be what he’s talking about to Castiel. But his voice is not angry. Well, he always does sound a little bit angry but Beth had soon realised it was how he always talked. Same goes for Castiel. Sam has the gentlest voice of them all.

“Yeah but how come we never know anything, huh?” Dean continues. “No, I know… Don’t give me that Cas, you know I do. No, I know I didn’t at first but… You can’t be fucking serious. No, I don’t wanna talk… Hey Sam! No, it’s fine, really… So he told you…”

Dean stops talking again and Beth stays hidden, not sure what she should do. She’s very thirsty now and would love some orange juice. But she could also go to the bathroom and drink some water. Dean wouldn’t know she was there if she did that.

“Sam, we’ll talk about this when you get back, all right? Give the phone back to Cas… Well tell him it’s important… Hey Cas… no, it’s something else, listen for a sec, okay? You guys need to just drive right through here. It’s Abaddon who’s after Beth. Because I was freaking out about the other thing. Just get here as fast as possible, no stops, all right? You can’t take any chances… Yeah, I will… Of course not… See ya, and be careful.”

Beth doesn’t wait another second and comes in the kitchen as soon as she knows Dean’s off the phone.

“Good morning, Dean,” she says brightly, making her way to the fridge to grab a juice box.

“Good morning, honey,” Dean replies with a smile.

He doesn’t ask her if she heard anything, and he doesn’t ask her why she’s calling him Dean again. She decides it must be because he prefers it that way and promises herself to try and remember that.

“What time is it?” she asks around her straw, still not knowing how late it could be.

“About 7:30. You can go back to bed if you want to.”

“I know,” the girl answers, but she’s pretty awake now. “Could we go have pancakes at that place?”

“Not sure it’s such a good idea. You know, with all the demons and angels after you. Would you settle for me making you pancakes?”

“Do you have chocolate chips?” Beth asks, sceptical.

“Of course…”

“And whipped cream?”

“Even got syrup. So, do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal,” the girl grins, offering her tiny hand for him to shake.

And when Beth shakes Dean’s hand, it’s because he seems so happy again that she decides to disregard the buzzing sounds of the Oracle in her head.

And chocolate pancakes are what’s most important right now in the eyes of a six-year-old child.

Prophecies? They certainly can wait a little longer.


	8. Dean Winchester Has A Bug Up His…

Dean and Castiel have now been waiting for more than an hour to meet with Penemue and Sariel, the angels Cas and Sam had encountered in Wisconsin. They are sitting in a Biggerson’s in Omaha, Nebraska, because Dean insisted that they wouldn’t meet the angels anywhere near the bunker. And even four hours away still feels a tad too close.

“When did they say they’d be here?” he asks Castiel, scanning the surroundings intently.

“They should have been here already. I hope nothing happened to them.”

“I honestly couldn’t care less.”

“Well, I do. They too are hunted, Dean,” Cas chides him.

The hunter only huffs at his friend’s words and keeps his eyes on the door, somewhat expecting to see an army of angels blast through it to kill them both.

Sam and Cas, but mostly Cas, had been trying to explain to Dean how Penemue and the others were not malicious. That, after conversing with them regularly for more than a month now and swapping information, it had become abundantly clear that their only goal was to go back home, in Heaven.

Still, Dean is not convinced. He believes they must have an underlying agenda. He’s certain they want to put their hands on Beth. Everyone does, whatever they might say about it.

Dean’s eyes are still on the door when he sees two people come in. A tall pasty woman and a shorter Latino man. He knows they’re the angels, thanks to his brother’s description of their vessels, but also by the way they carry themselves.

There’s just something about angels, the way they stand and stare at the world around them. With humans, you can see a bit of who they are by the way they walk, present themselves or even look at you. But whatever the vessel looks like, whatever life it had before, it doesn’t matter once an angel gets a hold of it.

However short they are, they will all seem tall, and proud, and focused. Only with time and experience would they let human qualities seep through their posture. Gabriel and Balthazar had been great examples of that, their grace apparently becoming one with their body. Castiel, Dean thinks proudly, not being an angel anymore, is acting more and more like a real person.

“Castiel, glad to see you again,” the woman greets when she gets to their table. She then turns to Dean and smiles. “Dean Winchester, I presume,” she adds, offering her hand in greeting.

Even though he’s far from happy to be there, Dean still shakes the angel’s hand, making good on a promise he made to his brother and Cas.

“ _Penny_ , I assume?” he says before taking back his hand to offer it to her companion. “And you must be Sariel?” he asks, receiving a short nod as sole answer.

“Please sit. Would you like some coffee?” Castiel asks before signalling the waiter to come to their table.

“We do not need sustenance, but thank you,” the woman answers, to which Castiel nods in assent. “Dean? Do you want anything?” he asks his friend sitting next to him.

“I’ll have another coffee, and some of your apple pie,” Dean tells the waiter.

“Same for me,” Castiel adds. “And only coffee for our friends, thank you.”

At Penemue and Sariel’s puzzled expressions, Castiel feels like he needs to explain why he still ordered for them.

“It is expected to at least purchase one item when you are in a commercial establishment for any length of time. It is only polite.”

Both angels nod in understanding while Dean huffs once again, which grants him a glare from his friend. But he just ignores it.

“So, wanna tell us what the hell it is you want or we just gotta think you’re up to no good?” Dean blurts without an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

“Dean,” Castiel reprimands him.

“No, it’s quite all right, Castiel. We understand,” quickly answers Penemue, her gentle stare on Dean. “I know your history, Dean, we all do. I can understand how you wouldn’t want to trust any of us. But I still wish to reassure you. We do not want to harm you or your family. We only want to go home, rid the Earth of our presence. And at the same time maybe help solve half of your problems.”

Dean wonders what they know, because the way he hears it they seem to know a little too much. Like how right now angels are pretty much half of his problems. Does it mean they know about Beth?

“Indeed, we do know about the child, Dean,” Penemue confirms without him having to say a word. “You must have forgotten that angels can read your mind. Surely Castiel had informed you of that fact.”

“Yeah well, I asked him not to do that. You know, an invasion of privacy sort of thing?”

“I wouldn’t know about privacy, I’m afraid. I understand you’d prefer I don’t read your mind either then?”

“If I could keep you out without asking, I would do it, so yeah,” claims Dean before taking a bite of the warm piece of pie that’s been put in front of him.

“Very well. But in return, I would ask that you be honest with us, as we are to be with you.”

“Tell me what it is you want, then we’ll see if I wanna make any deal with you. But first, what do you know about the kid?”

“Only the little we’ve heard while trying to listen in on the other angels. We haven’t heard much, I’m afraid. The more we stayed connected, the more chances we had to be found. So we mostly keep silent and don’t eavesdrop. But they believe she is the last Oracle somehow made human.”

“Have you heard how it could have happened?” asks Castiel, a faint hope in his heart that it would have been the work of their Father.

“We haven’t heard anything, no. What I know is that they are preparing for battle. Sandalphon has elected himself ruler of all angels on Earth, and he wants the Oracle for himself.”

“He wants to be God…”

“If he succeeds in defeating the demons and getting the Oracle, he will then surely challenge Metatron.”

“You seem to know a whole lot…” spits Dean, hating each and every word he’s been hearing so far.

“We sadly do not know the specifics. Only what I’ve already told you, the overall plan.”

“What about Xaphan? You heard about him?” asks Castiel again.

“His name was spoken of, yes. I believe he still is Sandalphon’s second in command.”

Castiel groans and shakes his head. He had encountered Sandalphon and Xaphan. They had led garrisons before, and even by angel standards they had a reputation for being exceptionally merciless to their enemies. Even Castiel had been on the other end of their swords when they had chosen Raphael’s side, right before the whole Leviathan ordeal.

“I would have thought that most of our brethren would have known better by now.”

“You know it as well as I do, Castiel. They need a leader and Sandalphon was Raphael’s protégé. Seeing how your own rebellion against him turned out, I tend to understand why they thought they’d better follow him then try and steer off on their own.”

“How dare you?” Dean growls, angrily pointing his fork at her face. “At least, he tried to do something. He was wrong, it blew up in his face, but he fucking tried. That’s more than any of you has ever done!”

“Dean…” tries to warn Castiel, but his voice doesn’t carry any real heat.

“No, Cas! I won’t let those winged dicks say shit about you, all right? How dare they ask you to help them. Where were they when you needed their help? Every angel you’ve dealt with has only tried to fuck you over. Just think of Uriel, Raphael, Anna, Michael, Naomi, Metatron… need I go on?”

“No Dean, it’s… it’s quite all right. But I too have made mistakes, I’ve killed many of my brothers and sisters… so many…” Castiel breathes, a hitch in his voice.

Even though Dean’s words brought him great joy at first, remembering now all the bad things he’s done is making him even more eager to help in any way he can.

“Well, you’re not an angel anymore. You’re human. My take is that you don’t owe them shit. You’ve already paid by losing your grace and your wings.”

“I wish you could believe we are not vengeful in any way. Or if we are, it is only towards Metatron. He is the source of our present suffering and only by defeating him can we be ourselves once more.”

“Does your bodyguard here have anything to say? You keep saying we, but he hasn’t said much. Can he talk?”

“I can talk,” Sariel calmly states. “I just don’t see why I should. We elected Penemue as our leader, so I let her talk. But she doesn’t solely make decisions. We all do.”

“Who’s we?” Dean asks again, keeping his attention on the man, wanting _him_ to speak. He’s not ready to trust some angel dude who’s apparently only there to stare at them.

“We are not many, I’m afraid. Apart from Penemue and myself, only five other angels are in our midst. Castiel already knows Ambriel and Selaphiel, and there’s also Urim, Eremiel and Orifiel. They too aspire to the same goal we do.”

“So, what? Did you really think the seven of you would be able to take down Metatron?”

“No, we never thought we could. All we knew was that we wanted to go home and never intended on hurting humanity any more than it already had been,” Penemue answers, once more apparently in charge of talking for her group.

“And what makes you think we can do anything to help you?”

“Castiel tells me you hold an extensive library and arsenal.”

Dean turns to his friend, unhappy to learn that Castiel might have been sharing secrets about the bunker.

“Dean… Sam and I have been researching non-stop since we’ve met them. We haven’t even been able to go through a tenth of everything the Men of Letters have accumulated. We need help.”

“We could ask Jody, and Charlie, and—”

“Angels don’t need sleep, Dean. And they can defend themselves if anything was to happen.”

“Great idea, Cas! And how do you figure we defend ourselves against these angels once we let them in?”

Castiel turns to Penemue and Sariel, praying to an absent God that Dean doesn’t do anything rash when he hears the question he still needs to ask.

“Penemue, would you let us bind your powers if we were to let you come to the bunker?”

~ ◊ ~

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t even talk to me about this,” Dean spits, throwing his duffel on the one king size bed.

“Sam and I… we thought it might help to have them help us research. But we know you won’t let them near the bunker if they have their powers intact,” Castiel answers, dropping his own duffel next to Dean’s.

“You’re damn right I won’t. Who says your spell-thingy will work at all?”

“My becoming human didn’t erase my knowledge, Dean. It’s a common binding spell, I’ve used it before and it’s been used on me.”

“So they too know about it. They’ll just undo it.”

“Only the one who casts it can uncast it. It’s foolproof.”

“I don’t believe in foolproof, Cas. Life’s taught me that much. Might I remind you that you were fucking brainwashed into killing me not so long ago? Who says it can’t happen again? They could make you undo the spell and shit.”

Castiel’s shoulders tense and he closes his eyes. That was something else he still hadn’t forgiven himself for. Almost killing Dean. Then fleeing with the tablet. Then helping Metatron. Dean was right to doubt anything Castiel would ever try to do.

“You’re right. You or Sam should cast the spell then. I understand that you might not trust me wholeheartedly.” He looks around the room and, if he didn’t care ten minutes ago, now he hates very much that there had been only one room left, one with a lone bed at that.

“Cas, that’s not what I meant at all,” Dean says after taking a deep breath. “Well, a little bit, but it’s not like you could do much about the brainwashing thing. Look, I get that you always wanna do what you think is best, we all do… but angels, man?”

“I know. You didn’t have pleasant experiences with them.”

“Neither did you Cas, come on. You’ve been killed twice. By Raphael and Michael.”

“They were Archangels.”

“Really? That’s your reasoning? Because the others were so much nicer to you? Anyway, we’ve talked about this before, you know what I think about your so-called family.”

“I do. And I know you’re worried and want to make sure that everyone’s safe, but we can’t just sit and wait. Because right now, that’s all we’re doing, Dean. We are basically waiting to see who will get to us first.”

“Nobody will.”

“And you think Metatron will let us sit tight and not tip the balance any which way he chooses?”

“He said he doesn’t want Beth.”

“He might not want her, but he certainly has an idea on who should be getting to her. You’ve seen what he’s done, he’s much more powerful than your average angel. Even more than any archangel. He has godlike powers, Dean. And we don’t know how to ward the bunker against Gods.”

The hunter sits on the bed; most of his fighting will has left his body. Oh, he’s seen what Metatron has done all right, they all did. They were sitting first row when that angel of his was able to get through the bunker’s wardings and slaughter Kevin.

Castiel had succeeded in plunging his sword into the assassin’s heart, but it had been too late. And, sadly, the goal clearly hadn’t been to only burn the young man’s eyes out. It had been a hit and the prophet was now dead.

“Do you think he knows what we’re doing? Like, right now?”

“Who? Metatron? It is possible, yes…”

“Then why do we do anything? Whatever we try to do, he’ll just fuck it all up just for the hell of it. He might decide to come in and kill us all.”

“He just might. But I have this friend, you see? He told me something once. Something important.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“If there’s anything worth dying for, this is it,” Castiel reminds him with a grin.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you saying I’m wrong? Beth, Heaven, defeating Metatron… those aren’t causes worth dying for?”

“You know they are. I just can’t believe you’d use my own words against me.”

“Yeah, well… They were important words. They changed everything. They changed me.”

“Huh… yeah… whatever,” Dean sputters, slightly embarrassed. “So what, we wait for Penny to call back then?”

“I told her we’d contact them again in the morning. They don’t need sleep, but we do.”

“It’s much too early for bed, Cas. You’re tired?”

“Not at all. I’m getting hungry though.”

“Let’s go to the bar near the interstate. They had that sign, _best burgers in Omaha_!”

“Don’t they all say they have the best burgers?”

“Yeah, well… it’s not like we can tell if they’re wrong, can we?”

Before Castiel can answer, Dean’s phone starts ringing. Sam’s name appears on the screen.

“Hey Sam,” he answers.

“Dean! Are you still in Omaha?”

“Yeah… what’s going on?”

“You guys gotta grab Penemue and Sariel and get out of there right now.”

“What? Why?”

“Beth just told me you have to go, she didn’t really explain. All I know is that if you stay, you might not get out alive.”

“Wait up, Sam. Cas? Beth had a vision. Call Penny, ask where they are, we’re picking her and Sariel up. They’re coming with us.”

“Who—”

“Cas, just call them, we’ll know more later. For now, we gotta leave.”

Dean grabs his duffel and opens the door, waiting for Castiel to follow with his own bag.

“Sam, we got everything for the binding spells?”

“Everything’s ready. Cas can do it on your way over here; he should have everything you need. I’ll take care of rearranging the sigils so they can come in.”

“Perfect. We’ll call you when we’re on our way. Anything we need to know?”

“I don’t think so. If Beth says anything more, I’ll call you back.”

“Thanks Sam! Talk to you later.”

Dean had walked back to the office to give back the keys to the attendee. He doesn’t even bother trying to get a refund for the night, which had already been paid in full. It’s not like they’d be using that credit card much longer anyway.

When he gets back to the car, Cas is still on the phone.

“I’m sorry but for now, it can only be you two… I do believe the child’s words, yes… Maybe later, but for now, only you and Sariel may come with us. No, she didn’t mention any of them, only you two… So they are not in Omaha. They must still be safe then. Tell me where you are, we are coming to get you… Huh huh… Yes, I’ll remember. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Castiel hangs up and immediately finds the map application on his phone and starts it up. While Dean turns the Impala’s engine on, he types up the address the angel has given him and checks to see how they can get there from the motel.

“All right… so, you’ll need to go north on I-75. Then west on the 390. There’s a couple more turns but it’s actually not that far.”

“Great! Let’s go rescue ourselves some angels, then.”

~ ◊ ~

Getting to the angels’ _borrowed_ digs is a little more difficult than expected. While Castiel might have been great at knowing his way in flight, it seems that reading a map isn’t so much a forte of his. Which is ultimately the weirdest thing, in Dean’s opinion.

Thankfully, everyone is alive and well when they finally reach their destination. Even painted that unfortunate dried mustard colour and boarded up, the abandoned house they’ve been squatting in has been difficult to find, sitting beyond an impossible array of unkempt trees and brushwoods.

Soon enough, with the angels now occupying the backseat, they are back on the road. And even though Cas and Dean had already been hungry when they got Sam’s call, they still wait until they’re out of Omaha, nearing Lincoln, before stopping for gas and snacks as well as the obligatory bathroom break.

Castiel performs the binding spell somewhere between Aurora and Hastings. And while Castiel is convinced the angelic hexing is totally effective, Dean still has his doubts. He’d love to be able to test it out, but he wouldn’t know how. And, well, Cas might just be a little offended to see him try.

At least Sam’s modifications to the sigils seem to have worked because he can bring the Impala in the garage and their new friends are still in the backseat.

“Jody’s here,” says Castiel, pointing to the cruiser parked in one of the stalls.

“Looks like it. Sam didn’t mention anything, did he?”

“Not to me. Maybe she just got here.”

“Who is Jody?” Penemue asks from her seat.

“She’s a friend of ours. A sheriff,” Castiel explains, a little bit of pride audible in his tone.

“Human?”

“Totally,” confirms Dean, parking his car in its usual spot.

“Should we expect to see many other friends of yours?”

“Unless Charlie decided to drop by, I’d say no.”

“And Charlie is another human friend?”

“The best,” Dean grins.

The foursome get out of the car and, after the hunters grab their duffel bags, they all make their way out of the garage. It’s still early enough for everyone to be up, even Beth. And of course, she’s the first one to come and greet them before they can even make it as far as the kitchen.

“Dean! Cas! You’re back,” she squawks, scampering towards them with Barney in her arms.

“Hey honey,” Dean replies, picking her up with his free arm to hug her, then passing her on to Cas so he can do the same.

“Did you bring me something?” she asks, unashamed, mostly because they always do bring her something back. Except when they have to flee before getting a chance to buy anything, that is.

“Well… our trip was kind of cut short but we still brought you two angels. How do you like that?” Dean tells her, curious to see her reaction to them. Apparently, she’s quite happy because she quickly jumps out of Castiel’s arms and goes to stand in front of the angels.

“Hello! My name’s Beth. And you are Penemue and Sariel?”

“We are. I hear we have you to thank for saving our lives?”

“I saw that you and Dean and Cas would die if you stayed. And then I told Sam, just like Dean told me I should do when I see bad things,” she says, smiling wide. “I’m happy you didn’t die,” she concludes before running off to where she came from.

“She seems like an extraordinary child,” Penemue comments, a soft smile gracing her features.

“She truly is. But even without the visions, she would be just as fascinating,” confirms Castiel, still looking towards the hall where the girl had run off.

“Come on, we’ll go see Sam and you can also meet Jody. I guess you guys will want to start working quickly.”

“We’ll start working whenever will be best for you. I do understand the human body and its limitations. I know that you will need to eat and sleep before you can be fully functional again.”

“See Cas? Penny understands. I recall you didn’t get that kind of stuff when you were still an angel.”

“Penemue has been stationed on Earth for many years now, am I right?” Castiel asks the woman, not responding to Dean’s too obvious poke in the ribs.

“I have, indeed. I’ve been using Augusta’s body as a vessel since the early 1900’s. I’ve mostly been in Italy since but, well… When the angels fell I was catapulted here for some inexplicable reason.”

They have all been walking towards the library while talking. When they get there, Sam and Jody are once more sipping tea in the leather chairs, with some old blues album playing on the phonograph. Over at one of the big tables, Beth is colouring in one of the many books they keep getting for her.

“Hey Sam! Jody! Not interrupting, are we?” guffaws Dean, hoping to make them a little bit uncomfortable. Which is a total bust because they just turn towards him and shrug, unfazed.

“Nice to see you again, Dean, Castiel,” Jody says, getting up to come and hug them, granting them each with a noisy peck on the cheek. “So these are your new angel friends?” she asks, walking to them, her hand extended. “Jody Mills, friend of the Winchesters. And you are…?”

“I am Penemue, and this here is Sariel,” the older woman responds, grabbing the offered hand.

“Yeah… he doesn’t talk much,” Dean explains because he believes it needs to be said.

“I only talk when necessary,” Sariel counters, intended on defending his own purpose.

“That’s all right, man. I actually got used to you not talking,” replies Dean with a shrug. “Plus, Penemue is an easy name to shorten, but yours? I don’t know, man. Sari? Sar? I’m not feeling it.”

Nobody seems to be paying him attention anymore as Sam has gotten up too and greets the angels. Soon enough, Sam and Cas are talking with the two angels about theories and research and all those things Dean hates the most.

“You wanna draw with us?” Beth asks, making him realise that Jody had taken a seat next to her to colour in one of the books.

He turns to look at the four over-excited nerds and, clearly, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with whatever they’re squealing about.

“Oh, hell yeah! Gimme that princess book, honey! Now lemme show you how Dean Winchester is a grand master in colouring.”

~ ◊ ~

It takes about thirty minutes for Dean to get bored with the colouring activity. Instead, he suggests that they go watch a movie in Beth’s room. Jody applauds the suggestion, confiding she hadn’t seen a decent animated movie since forever. She doesn’t say she hasn’t seen one since the death of her son, but Dean understands nonetheless.

When Beth is all cleaned-up and in her pyjamas, Jody makes some popcorn and they’re all sitting on the girl’s bed, watching the opening scene of _Tangled_. Of course, Dean would have preferred another movie, but it’s the kid’s favourite. Plus, Jody hasn’t even seen it. So, they’re not so much watching the movie as listening to Beth narrate the entire movie as it plays.

Of course, she _has_ to explain how Sam looks just like Flynn Ryder, because he’s so tall and he’s got long hair and he’s so handsome. And she also has to explain how Dean would look just like Rapunzel if he were to be a girl because they have the same green eyes, and nose and the same hair colour except for when it glows. And of course Jody has to be laughing like crazy at it all.

“I’ll have you know that when she cuts her hair, she doesn’t look anything like me,” he mumbles, unable not to sound too dejected by the implications of him looking like a fucking Disney princess.

“She does too,” Beth insists. “It’s only her hair that changes, not her face.”

“And who is Castiel in your movie?” asks Jody, probably trying to change the subject but making a piss poor job at it.

“Hummm… well… he should be Flynn, but he doesn’t look like him. Well, nobody looks like him really. He could be Maximus. Because he’s super courageous and he loves Rapunzel very much.”

Once more, Dean decides he won’t try and decipher what a six-year-old kid might mean by that. Well, he kind of knows but he’d rather not pay any mind to it. So he doesn’t comment. Still, he risks a glance at Jody and, of course, she’s looking at him with that little knowing smirk of hers.

So he shrugs, as if to say “Heh, kids!” and turns his attention back to the movie. He knows what Jody thinks. Because he knows what Beth thinks. And he certainly knows that Sam thinks it too. And whatever he seems to say about it all, how Cas and him are not like that, nobody ever appears to take it seriously.

Even that douchebag Metatron had been hinting at them being together. But of course, he was only saying that to get a rise out of him. Not like it’d be the most insulting thing in the world, but people have to stop assuming that he’s in love with his best friend. What if Cas starts thinking it too? He might not react as well as Dean has.

When the movie comes to an end, Beth is fast asleep, curled up between Dean and Jody. Gingerly, they both get off the bed and while Dean tucks her underneath the covers, Jody turns off the laptop. Before exiting the room, they each take turn with a soft kiss on her forehead.

“What do you say to some coffee, or something?” Dean offers, closing Beth’s door behind him.

“Well… some of that beer you got could be nice.”

“All right. Kitchen?”

“Fine with me. The others might be in full research mode.”

“Yeah and… I don’t wanna be doing that!”

“I hear you,” Jody laughs, following him towards the kitchen. “That girl of yours truly is adorable, Dean,” she adds, her voice warm.

“She is, right? I never thought I’d feel so close to her. It’s like…”

“Like she’s really yours?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, grabbing the beers from the fridge and handing one to the sheriff.

“Sam told me about the daddy thing. How’s that going?” she asks again, sitting at the table.

“Seems it was a one time thing. She either was tired or doing that thing you said girls do. You know, the manipulating of the dumb adult male?”

“I take you didn’t ask her?”

“No. I wouldn’t want her to feel obligated, you know?”

“Or maybe she’s not sure she can call you that. You or Castiel for that matter. Or Sam?”

Dean takes a long pull of his beer, not wanting to speak of how they view their roles in the kid’s life. Because quite frankly, Dean’s not even sure anymore. But there’s a big chance that Sam’s not part of the parental equation. Still, Jody insists.

“How’s that working? Are you all father figures to her? Or are you all like her uncles? What’s going on there?”

“Jody, I know you mean well, but—”

“I’m only asking because I think Beth needs to know. You can’t tell me you didn’t understand what she was saying earlier. About the horse and the princess.”

“She’s a kid.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s an idiot. Hell, we all see it, Dean. How do you not?”

“And what do you see exactly, huh?” Dean asks, even though he’s certain he doesn’t want to know.

“Can you honestly tell me you and Cas haven’t been acting as Beth’s parents this whole time? You’re always in each other’s spaces. You always – _always_ – lock eyes for God knows how long. It’s not like anybody’s judging here, Dean. So what if you guys love each other?”

“We’re not together, Jody. We’re not in love, we don’t have sex, we don’t flirt… we’re friends, that’s all. And not with benefits either,” the hunter growls.

“I wish you’d let yourself be happy for once, Dean.”

“I could tell you the same thing. How long has it been since your kid ate your husband?” he spits, unable to stop himself. Even though the words come from him, his heart breaks when he sees her face fall the second she hears them. But he stands his ground, even though that makes him the biggest asshole ever.

“Wow… okay… I’ll be going now. I only tried to help Dean. I might be getting things wrong, but that doesn’t give you the right to – whatever, I’m done! Next time you need help, you just go find yourself another sucker, you hear me?” Jody all but yells, getting up from the kitchen table and barging out.

It doesn’t take a minute for Sam to come running in the kitchen, a panicked look on his face.

“What the hell happened? I just saw Jody, she’s devastated.”

“She didn’t mind her own damn business, that’s what happened.”

“I don’t know what you’ve said or done, but you better go make it right. I mean it!”

“The hell I am. She’ll get over it,” he pouts, knowing she just might not.

“I doubt she will. She pretty much told me to never contact her again.”

“So?” Dean blurts, hiding his embarrassment behind his beer.

“So? So I kinda want her to stick around, you should know that. And it was going rather well until you did whatever just now.”

“Okay, so now I gotta let your girlfriend say shit to me so you can finally get some, is that it?”

“First, she’s _not_ my girlfriend. But I do enjoy her company, yes. Second, what in the hell could she ever say to you, seriously?”

“She just kept grilling me about Cas and how we look at each other and all that nonsense. I told her, and I’m telling you, Cas and I are _not_ together and we never will. Get that through your thick dumb skull.”

Sam exhales his frustration, running a hand in his hair. He’s pretty sure his brother said something else to make Jody as angry as she was, but Sam decides he’ll be asking her instead. He turns around to leave the kitchen, only to see Castiel retreating hastily back to where he’d been coming from.

He knows his brother isn’t in the most receptive mindset. Hell, he never is but right now is probably the worst time Sam could ever choose to try and make him understand anything. Still he has to try, so he turns back around to face Dean, trying to find the best words to mirror his thoughts.

“Dean… if you don’t take your stupid head out of your stupid ass, I’ll have to do it for you!”

And, okay… maybe those were not the best words he could have come up with.


	9. The Power of Our Words

It takes about a week for Dean to finally go apologize to Jody. After numerous arguments with Sam and reassurance from Beth that he wouldn’t get killed in the process, he gets on the road and drives to Sioux Falls.

It had been a while since he’d spent some time alone with his Baby, AC/DC as loud as humanly possible, him belting out the tunes without anyone begging him to stop. And the more he drives, the more his mood improves. The more his mood improves, the more he realises he’s been a major dickbag for the past few months.

It’s not only the open road that’s making his head clearer; it’s the calmness, the most welcome isolation from everyone else. Not that he’s an antisocial freak but a guy needs his space, you know? He’s never been truly alone, Sammy always being around – most of the time – but they had quickly learned to give each other space.

But then came Cas. As an angel he was never constantly there but, even when he was, Dean had never felt like the angel was imposing. Even without understanding the concept of personal space, it was still okay that Cas would just be around.

And then the last four months have been the most crowded in Dean’s life. This and the fact that he can’t really go anywhere anymore because of the price on their heads. So he’s holed up in the bunker, which is nice enough, but even with his own room the place now feels like it’s buzzing with people.

It’s all people he loves, save for the two angels they had to bring in, but Dean’s not used to having so many people around. And he’s not used to not being able to just go for a drive to clear his head when he needs it.

When they found the bunker, he’d been happy, he thought he had found the closest thing to a home he’d ever get. He even nested. But now? It’s starting to feel more like a prison and it’s making him antsy and pissy and pretty much the asshole Jody had seen that day.

“So that’s your excuse?” the sheriff asks him, standing on her porch with her arms crossed. She’s wearing her work clothes and, well, Dean kind of sees what his brother might like about her. Gotta dig a chick in uniform.

“Not so much of an excuse as a reason?” Dean tries to explain, wincing at his own words.

“Dean, what you said—” she starts only to find her voice breaking.

“I know. I didn’t have the right to say what I said. I’m tempted to give you permission to shoot me if it’s gonna make you feel any better.”

“Indeed, you didn’t have the right! I know you’ve been through Hell, literally. But I did too.” Tears are now flowing freely on her cheeks. “Can you imagine what it’s like to see your kid come back from the dead and then catch him eating his own father? Do you?” she cries, enraged.

“No. No I don’t,” he can only murmur, deeply ashamed. “And I wish you didn’t have to either,” he continues after a beat. “I know I was out of line, there’s no denying this and I don’t think I could ever be sorry enough. But I still am. And I intend on doing everything I can so you can forgive me someday.”

Jody wipes the tears from her face and takes a deep breath. When she looks at Dean again, her stare is still hard but not as furious as before.

“There’s only one thing you can do for me, Dean Winchester. Kill Crowley and then we might start being even,” she says, opening her front door and holding it to let him in. Dean hesitates only a second before following her inside.

~ ◊ ~

Sam and Castiel are in the library researching with Sariel and Penemue. Well, Penny, as she is now being called by everyone since she didn’t mind Dean’s moniker. She actually takes it as some kind of acceptance on his part. Nobody dares telling her the hunter just hardly ever calls anyone by their given name, whether he likes them or not.

Beth has been sleeping for some time already and now the humans in the research party are starting to get tired as well. Sam is used to it and is thinking of going to bed himself, but Cas? He’s still not too keen on the limited resource aspects of human life.

“Come on Cas. Let’s call it a night, shall we?” Sam tells his friend, seeing him nodding off over his book.

“I can go on… not tired.”

“Like hell you’re not. You’re just about to start drooling.”

Castiel looks up only to glare at him but still brings the back of his hand to his mouth to make sure he’s _not_ drooling.

“Those books are precious. I can’t have my saliva drip on them,” he explains while closing the heavy leather bound volume.

“How about you guys? You’re good on your own?” Sam asks the angels.

“Yes, thank you Sam, we should be okay. You both go and rest,” Penny smiles.

“All right! Good night then.”

While both men walk back towards their bedrooms, Sam decides it might be the perfect opportunity to try and discuss what he’s been dying to talk about for a week. Since he’s seen his friend walk away after Dean’s outburst actually. He’s noticed how Cas had been pretty quiet and subdued since then and he knows that he certainly did not address it with Dean.

“Cas? Can I ask you something?” he finally says, delaying getting into his own room.

“Of course.”

“I saw you the other day. When Dean was a jerk to Jody?”

“I was there that day, Sam. Of course you saw me.”

“I mean… I saw you walking off, after he said… about you and him.”

“Oh, that… I didn’t want to embarrass him. So I retreated. I should not have followed you anyway, it didn’t concern me.”

“Well see, it kind of did actually. And you’ve been kind of weird since then. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

“What is there to talk about, Sam? Dean is right. We are friends. He does not consider himself as Beth’s parent. And as soon as everything is right again, when she is safe and my family has gone back home, I will leave with Beth and we will try to live a normal life.” Castiel gives the hunter a smile, but it’s a bitter one.

“Do you love him?” Sam asks, tired of beating around the bushes.

“Of course I do. I love you all.”

“Cas, you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean, Sam. Just as I thought that you would have understood my unwillingness to answer.”

The hunter is taken aback. Castiel is usually much more open about what he thinks or feels. But this new behaviour is making him uneasy and he’s not sure if he wants to keep asking questions.

“Anna was wrong, you know,” Castiel eventually goes on.

“What about?” Sam asks against his better judgement.

“She said angels don’t feel. Not like humans do anyway. She was wrong. I did feel, Sam. Naomi said it; I came off the line with a crack in my chassis.”

Even if Castiel doesn’t say the actual words, Sam knows what his friend is really confessing to. Still, he wishes it could just be said out loud. Not so much for him to hear it, but for Cas’ own benefit. Otherwise he’ll just be mirroring Dean’s emotional inadequacies.

“So, yes Sam, I do love your brother. But it doesn’t change the fact that he will never love me back. He does appreciate me, this much I know, and that will have to be enough. I told him once I would stay with you both because I could only see myself as a soldier. But that was before Beth came into my life.”

“Cas, Beth came into _our_ lives.”

“Really? Do you consider yourself her father, Sam?”

“Well, more like an uncle, honestly. Only because my brother—”

“Your brother’s a true hunter. He needs to be out there fighting. I don’t doubt that he loves Beth but he’s not the domestic kind. All he needs to be happy is you, his car, the road and the occasional lascivious lady,” Castiel smiles, and this time there’s a bit of fondness in there.

“You’re wrong. Some of those things he needs, yes. But he needs you too. You should have seen how miserable he was after you disappeared into the reservoir, when we thought you were dead. Or when he came back from Purgatory without you. He might not be able to express it, but he needs you.”

“Oh, he did… he said it. When I was beating him to death, he did say he needed me, trying to break me out of Naomi’s hold. He said how we were family,” spits Castiel. “But stop thinking your brother might love me, Sam. I don’t care if it was Naomi controlling me, I still almost killed him. And I inhabit a male vessel. I don’t see how he could ever love me the way that I wish he would.”

Turning his back to Sam, Castiel walks to his room and gets in before slamming the door shut. With a sigh, the hunter goes in his own room. Even with Castiel’s little flare-up, he’s still satisfied about the outcome of their conversation. Of course nothing is ever easy, but at least now there’s no doubt about Castiel’s feelings.

Not that there ever was, really.

~ ◊ ~

“See Dean, I’d rather not talk about my personal stuff with you!”

Jody takes a big gulp of her beer, eyeing the hunter darkly.

“I know… but… but I swear it’ll never happen again,” Dean stammers before letting a loud burp erupt.

“You’re a pig,” the sheriff chides him, before doing the same, making sure hers is much louder and longer.

“Awesome! You’re such a cool chick, you know that?”

“I know! And you’re an ass.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sooooooo sorry,” Dean slurs and tries to give her what he thinks is his most charming smile.

“You know that won’t work on me, right?” she mocks, gulping the rest of her beer then grabbing a new one from the cooler between them.

“I know! You got it bad for the Sasquatch!”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Ha! Personal stuff! I win!”

“No! Personal stuff would be me telling you Bobby kissed me that one time,” she giggles, trying to hide her blushing face behind her hand.

Unfortunately, Dean has a mouthful of beer when Jody tells him her little secret so he ends up spitting it all over the porch. And even though she tries to act a bit outraged at his reaction, it doesn’t last and soon enough she’s laughing just as hard as he is.

Of course, she has to tell Dean what happened. How her trying to help and washing his floors, causing the soapy water to drip on the Leviathan he was harbouring downstairs, had granted her with the most passionate kiss she had had since her husband’s death. Giving her a glimpse of maybe being able to see Bobby as something more than a friend, or the eccentric town drunk.

They fall silent quickly after that, remembering that it was not long after that event that Dick Roman killed Bobby. The laughter subsides, giving way to sorrow and grief. Emotions, which do not sit very well with one Dean Winchester. So of course he has to find something stupid to say.

“Now you want to explain to me how you can go from Bobby, to Crowley, to my brother?” he asks, trying to keep his tone light and humorous.

“First off, I didn’t go from one to the other. Bobby took me by surprise,” she starts, shooting a finger up. “Then Crowley was a blind date,” she continues, extending a second finger, keeping for herself the fact that she had thought the King of Hell was actually hot. “And your brother, well… we just get along really, _really_ well,” she concludes, letting her hand down.

“Well, you got my blessing.”

“Don’t think we need it, but thanks anyway. Now, how about you?”

Dean feels the remnants of the previous week trying to bubble up from the pit of his stomach, but it dies almost instantly. He knows what she has in mind, he remembers his outburst and yet he’s okay with it all now. It must be lager induced, but he finds himself to be in a sharing mood. It’s not like he’s got anybody else to talk to right now.

“Jody, can you promise me to never tell another living soul about what I’m about to say?” he asks, eyes fixated on the wood railing.

“Of course.”

“Not even to Sam. I don’t care how intimate you guys are.”

“I promise, Dean. You can confide in me.”

All those beers they have been drinking, they did their job of loosening them both up but they’re now helping making them be more solemn, even unnecessarily serious.

“Cas, if he’d been a girl, I think that I would have tried something the minute he became human. I’m just that kind of a horn dog, you know?”

“So what you’re saying is, you’d want the guy if he weren’t a guy.”

“Well, I actually think I like the guy even though he’s a guy. But then he is a guy so I kind of don’t too, you know?”

And in both their drunken minds, what Dean is saying is making a whole lot of sense. So Jody nods, grabbing his knee in reassurance.

“So I take you are afraid of the penis?”

“Not afraid. Because I got one, and I kinda like mine, you know?”

“I can imagine.”

“But I don’t like dicks in general. I think.”

“I do… they’re nice,” she offers, letting an exaggerated sigh out, wondering if Sam’s is in any way proportionate to his monster-size frame.

“I guess…”

“Your brother doesn’t like them either.”

“No, I’m sure he doesn’t,” Dean laughs. Because, he might be busting his balls about him being a girl all the time, but he knows too damn much how his brother’s into chicks.

“I don’t know if I can tell you this,” Jody whispers, as if they weren’t the only people for miles around, “but he’s not like you. He is not totally anti-men like you say you are,” Jody continues, laughing softly. “But don’t tell him I told you,” she exclaims, suddenly aware that it might not have been something she could share. “If you do, I’ll tell him what you just told me,” she concludes, in a menacing tone.

From his beer-addled brain, Dean tries to understand what just happened, but fails.

“Wha’?”

“He kissed a guy… and he didn’t like it,” Jody singsongs, before screaming in laughter.

Dean’s laughing too, but he’s not sure if it’s at the news or at Jody who’s squirming in her chair she’s laughing so much. Of course his little bitch of a brother would have made out with a guy. Then he wonders how far they went. And then he totally hates himself for even allowing his brain to try and go there.

And since brain bleach isn’t something that’s been invented just yet, he decides he’d better have a couple – or ten – more beers to make sure the images now plaguing his mind will disappear for good. He downs one in what looks like a single gulp, then opens another one. Jody doesn’t stop sniggering until he’s halfway done with that one too.

“What puts you off so much about guys?” Jody asks when she’s able to talk again.

“I don’t know. What puts you off about girls?” Dean replies, hoping she gets his point.

“Well, I’ve never had the occasion. Never found a girl appealing that way actually.”

“Same for me, except you know… guys.”

“But Dean, you just said that if he were a girl, you’d have slept with Castiel.”

“Yeah, well he’s not.”

“Okay, so you don’t love him?”

“Love and sex… two different things.”

“Yes, and no. But if for you it is, how can you deny loving Cas if it has nothing to do with sex?”

“Dunno…”

“You’re lucky I know you, otherwise I’d think you’re as dumb as a rock.”

“I can’t love Cas, all right?”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t!”

“Is it because if you admit that you do, then you might feel the need to be physical about it?”

Instead of answering, Dean gulps on the last of his beer then grabs yet another one. He still isn’t drunk enough for this shit.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Jody insists. “Are you afraid he won’t love you back? Or even worse, that he will?”

“I don’t know, all right? My life is not one for relationships… I’ve tried before. Plus, he deserves so much better.”

“Better than what? You?”

“There’s an understatement. And, me liking him doesn’t guarantee I’ll want to… you know… fuck him and stuff. Or that he’d want me to. We’re just better as friends.”

“I take it back. You _are_ as dumb as a rock,” she offers, but still smiles around the harsh words.

Lulled by the alcohol, Dean doesn’t take offense and smiles too, slouching back in the lawn chair and closes his eyes. All these thoughts about Cas, about love and sex, they’re twirling around in his brain and he’s starting to feel a bit dizzy.

Everybody’s so wrong; it’s not even funny anymore. He knows Cas likes him a lot. But the guy was an angel until not so long ago and angels, they don’t love like humans do, Anna had told him as much. That’s one of the things she liked most as a human. And she was never interested in sleeping with him ever again once she had her grace back.

So okay, Cas might have chosen him over Heaven on a couple of occasions, but it was clearly because it was the right choice. Angels were dicks, and unreliable, and overall batshit crazy. So he didn’t do it for Dean, per se. Cas loves humans, and Dean is just lucky enough to be his best friend.

As for himself, well sometimes he feels his true self has been buried for most of his life. Not consciously, as he’s realized recently, but it’s as if he’s never let himself consider anything else. Not with the life he’s had. Not with his father and what had always been expected of him.

All Dean did in his life was to become the man his father had wanted him to be. So he was this obedient little soldier, becoming the sole protector and caretaker for his little brother. He became the best hunter he could ever be. He transformed into his father, mirroring his life, clothes, and even his taste in music. And never, ever, would he have let anything divert him from becoming that man he held so high in esteem.

But John Winchester is dead now, he’s been dead for years. And Dean has been growing into his own person. And whatever he might think, he’s been told over and over he was a better man than his father ever was. But Dean can’t accept that. His father had been a broken man and he certainly did the best he could. And thanks to him—

“Time to get up, Dean,” someone says loudly, which makes him jump and fall from his chair, his hand reaching for the gun that, for some reason, is not in his belt. He opens his eyes, his heart racing.

Somehow it is now morning and Jody is standing in front of him with a mug, which she hands to him with little white caplets. Now he remembers.

“Take these, it’ll help with the hangover,” she tells him, not looking so fresh herself.

In the mug, instead of the expected coffee, he finds water. Cool and crisp, glorious water. He takes the pills and downs the whole mug’s content before getting on his feet.

“I slept on the porch?”

“Well, you actually snored on the porch,” she scoffs. “Coffee’s ready inside if you want some. I also prepared a fresh towel and washcloth for you if you wanna take a shower.”

“Thanks, Jody. Sorry for falling asleep.”

“No worries, I think I was out before you were. Your snoring woke me up and I went to bed inside. I did try to wake you but you kept swatting me away so – yeah – I let you sleep out here.”

“That’s fine. I’ll take you up on your offer for a shower though.”

“Make yourself at home.”

~ ◊ ~

While Castiel is researching a new stack of books with Penny and Sariel, Sam decides to go check up on Beth. She usually sits with them in the library, either reading or colouring, but that morning she had claimed she felt tired and wanted to stay in bed.

After knocking, Sam opens the door to find the girl curled up on her bed, clutching at her hair and drenched in sweat.

“Beth! What’s going on? Are you okay?” he worries, sitting beside her on the bed.

“My head… I can’t…” she tries to say before throwing up on Sam’s lap.

“Damn it,” Sam mutters, taking the girl in his arms and running to the bathroom.

He settles her in front of the toilet bowl and instructs her to stay there while he tries to clean the spew from his jeans. Of course, he’ll need to change but it can wait. When he deems his pants clean enough, he grabs a fresh washcloth and runs it under the cool stream of water.

“How are you doing, sweetie?” he asks the girl, running the damp cloth on her clammy forehead.

“Not good,” she replies, her voice trembling.

“You think you’re gonna be sick again?”

“Dunno.”

“Okay… hum… I think you might be having some fever there. Are you cold? Or hot?”

“Both, I think. Not sure.”

“All right. Come with me, we’ll go to my room, I’ve got a thermometer there,” he says, grabbing her once more, letting her fold herself over his torso, her face hidden in his neck.

When they get to his room, he puts her on the bed and takes the thermometer from the box of medical supplies he still keeps on his nightstand. He eyes the monitors lined-up on the far wall, tempted to hook her up to one of them but he decides there’s no need to be overly dramatic. Not yet anyway.

While they wait for the electronic device he placed in Beth’s mouth to do its job, Sam takes his phone and decides to call Jody. It’s not like he knows anything about sick kids. And Cas would be even less helpful. He could try looking on the Internet but it would most certainly take time. It has nothing to do with him wanting to talk to Jody.

Of course, she’s not answering. Sam is not sure if he should leave a message or not but still does, deciding there’s no reason to be rude.

“Hey Jody. Sorry I missed you. Hmm… I hope all is okay with my brother. Call me when you get this. Thanks,” he lies, not wishing to worry anyone with news of a sick child. Plus, it might only be the flu or something.

When the thermometer beeps, Sam takes it back to check: 102 degrees. She does have fever then. He puts the gadget in his back pocket and grabs the girl again to bring her into her own bed. He’ll need to go and research what to do when a kid is sick, and tell Cas about Beth not feeling so good.

In the library, Castiel and the angels are still hard at work, reading, taking notes. Sam doesn’t sit to start searching for childcare on his computer.

“Is everything all right, Sam?” Castiel asks.

“Beth was sick just now, and she has a bit of a fever. Just looking to see how to make her better.”

“She’s sick?” Castiel yelps, getting up from his seat. “How? Is she in danger?”

“No, I don’t think so. She just might have a flu or something. No need to worry.”

“How do you know, Sam? Are you a doctor?” Castiel spits before leaving the library.

“Maybe I could help,” offers Penny, closing the book in front of her.

“Your powers are dulled out, I don’t think—”

“I know, but Augusta was a nurse. Well, she was a nun, but she was a nurse too.”

Sam looks at her, confused.

“Who’s Augusta?”

“My vessel.”

“Oh, I get it. And you kept some of her memories?”

“Well, she’s still in here after all. She could help me care for the child if you wish.”

Once more, Sam is without words. As far as he knows, Jimmy’s soul had departed from what is now Castiel’s body long ago, and he was not particularly vocal when he was there. Still, the fact that Cas had been blown to bits twice – by both Raphael and Michael – could explain how Jimmy would have not been inhabiting the body for long.

“Didn’t you say you’ve been using this body for more than a century?”

“Indeed. As an angel, the vessel I use will not decay. Nor would its original soul. So Augusta and I amicably share her body.”

“Wouldn’t she like to just be done with it all and go to Heaven at some point?”

“She knows she can request to leave the minute she wants to. But she claims liking to see the world evolve. She’s seen many things change over the last century.”

“Wow… all right then. So, what about Beth?”

“She tells me that to make the fever go down you might want to give her a bath. Tepid water, not cold nor hot.”

“What about analgesics? Would they help? She said her head hurts and she threw up.”

“Augusta believes that the lukewarm bath and fresh compresses to her forehead should be enough. And liquids. Like warm water with lemon, perhaps?”

“Okay… bath, fluids, compresses. Gotcha! Thanks Penny. And thanks Augusta,” Sam says before going back to the girl’s room where he finds Castiel pacing nervously next to her bed.

“Now what, Sam? What do we do? She can’t die!”

“Easy there, Cas. She’s not dying. Augusta says to give her a lukewarm bath and just put compresses to her head to try and ease the fever. She also needs to drink a bit. I’ll go draw her a bath, why don’t you prepare her some warm lemon water?”

“Augusta? You mean Penemue’s vessel?”

“Yes, she apparently was a nurse. So, go get the water. Bring back some juice boxes too in case she doesn’t like it. I’ll prepare her bath.”

“All right. Should I call Dean to let him know?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary, no need to make him all worried.”

“If you say so,” Castiel responds before leaving for the kitchen.

As for Sam, he crosses the hall to the shower room and starts filling the claw foot tub that sits in the corner, removed from the many shower stalls. When he’d been fresh from all the trials madness, he had to take baths instead of showers he was so weak.

The grab bars Dean had installed to facilitate him getting in and out of the bath are still there. It still makes Sam angry and he’s tempted to just snatch and rip them from the wall and floor. But of course, Dean had made sure they were all proper and solid and, well, with the job they have who knows if they won’t need them again in the future.

While the bath is filling up, he takes his phone to send his brother a text. Nothing too alarming, but he needs to ask Dean to bring back some children’s medicine, like Tylenol or something. Not that he doesn’t believe Augusta but she was a nurse a century ago so maybe they just have some stuff now that could help better than warm lemon water.

It appears his message wasn’t clear enough because Dean calls him back almost immediately.

“Sam! What’s going on? What’s with Beth?” Dean blurts without so much of a greeting the second Sam answers.

“Told you not to worry, Dean. She’s okay, she was sick and has a bit of fever. Probably just the flu. Just bring back some kid’s medicine on your way back.”

“Why don’t you go now? Why wait for me?”

“Right now, we’re taking care of her. I’m filling the tub for her.”

“Tell Cas to go then.”

“He’s preparing her some lemon water.”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! When you’re done with the bath, let Cas give it to her and go to the store buy some child’s Tylenol. It’ll help with the fever. Buy some cough syrup too, just in case. And some Vicks. If we don’t need it now, we will eventually.”

“How do you—”

“Me practically raising you, ring any bells? And that year with Lisa and Ben? Now, just be quick all right? Bring an angel sword, not just Ruby’s knife. And be careful.”

“All right, Dean. Sorry about—”

“No worries. But next time, just call me. I’m leaving Sioux Falls soon, see you guys at dinner.”

“Okay. Bye, Dean.”

Sam hangs up and turns his attention back to the bath. Just in time too because it’s getting much too full. He kind of forgot it was for a six year old kid and not for him and his tall, muscled frame. He plunges a hand in the tub and pulls on the plug to drain some of the water.

He hears the door open and turns to see Castiel bringing the child in his arms. She’s shivering.

“Are you sure we should immerse her in water? I’m afraid it’ll make her even more sick,” Castiel asks, his tone weary.

“Yeah. Dean kind of confirmed it just now too. I remember he’d do this for me when I was sick.”

“You talked to him? I thought you said we shouldn’t worry him,” Castiel accuses him, eyes squinted.

“Well, I sent a text asking him to buy children’s medicine and he called me back. But now he’s pissed that we would wait for him and he told me to go and buy the stuff.”

“You can’t go. We don’t know if—”

“I’ll be quick. And careful. I’m just going in town; I’ll be back in 30 minutes.

“Bring Sariel with you.”

“He’s powerless. If anything, he’ll be a distraction more than anything.”

“Fine. But please Sam, be careful.”

“I will.”

As soon as Sam leaves the room, Castiel starts undressing Beth so he can put her in the tub. The fabric of her pyjamas is drenched in sweat, which might explain why she’s been shivering so much. But the water, at the current temperature, is certainly not helping make her trembling ease off.

Still, he figures that this is how it should be and he just grabs a washcloth and sinks it in the water, then softly runs it all over the girl’s skin and in her hair. He doesn’t use soap, he just uses the water to try and make her body heat come down to a more acceptable level.

It seems to be working as she soon stops shuddering and her eyes seem to be regaining some sort of focus. Castiel keeps on wiping her delicately with the cloth. After a while, he takes her out and dries her, dressing her in clean pyjamas.

After he puts her back in bed and makes sure her temperature is closer to normal, he decides he’d better let her sleep. But when he tries to leave, her little hand grabs his wrist and she forces her shining gaze onto his.

“Xaphan has taken Sam. You have to free Penemue and Sariel. Only they can save him now. Go!”


	10. The Warrior Angels

“Now you’re talkin’,” mutters Sam when he wakes, tied up to rusty pipes.

He’s forcibly sitting on the dirty floor of what seems to be a basement, dimly lit by a bare light bulb with a chain. All around are mostly empty, and broken, shelving units. Numerous gutted cardboard boxes and stained rags litter the floor. And there’s no trace of a window, not even those tiny ones in which his arm would barely fit through.

He can hear muffled voices coming from upstairs, as well as people moving around. But other than that, no sounds, nothing that could give him a clue as to where he’s at or what kind of building he’s in. It could be a house but it could also be an office building. It could even be an ice cream shop, who the hell knows? There’s no way for him to know where he is.

John Winchester had taught his sons early on how to extract themselves from pretty much any contraption device, would they be cuffs, ropes or even tie wraps. Except those tricks would mostly work when they’d have their hands behind their backs or were able to access the tools they keep hidden in their clothes.

Right now, with his arms pulled far above his head and chained to the pipes, plus his lower body chained down to the floor, he doesn’t have much leeway. As much as he tries wiggling and pulling, all he achieves to do is to make a ruckus and soon enough he can hear the door at the top of the stairs creak open.

The voices are clearer for a second but it doesn’t last long enough for him to make out anything that’s being said. After the door has closed again, he hears shoes stomping down the stairs. Women’s shoes. Soon enough he sees black pumps making their way down. Their owner is a dark skinned woman well in her fifties with very well coiffed, but unnatural, blond hair.

“You’re finally awake,” she says, twirling her angel blade around.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know. That Oracle of yours didn’t tell you I was coming?”

“I guess she knew I didn’t have anything to fear.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, demon child. My name is Xaphan, you might have heard of me?”

“Not a word!”

“You lie, but that’s all right. Humans lie all the time. As do demons. It’s in your blood, isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Sam snarls.

“You know what we want. And that darling brother of yours is going to give it to us.”

“Not a chance!”

“Oh, but he will. We know all about you, we know how the Winchester boys just love to sacrifice themselves for one another. Dean will do anything to save his little brother’s life. Giving us the Oracle is but a small price to pay, don’t you think?”

“We knew you’d try to pull some shit like that. And he knows I don’t want him to trade Beth’s life for mine.”

“Why do you care so much anyway? It’s not like she’s any use to you.”

“Of course she’s no _use_ to us, she’s family. But it’s not like you could ever understand.”

“No! You! You don’t understand! I had a family. I had a home. It was taken from us by that abomination of a seraph you call a friend.”

“Cas didn’t do this, it was Metatron.”

“He helped. They are equally guilty.”

“Well, you and your buddies wanted the Apocalypse to happen so don’t give me that crap. All Cas has been doing is defend himself and his beliefs against what you dare call family. You don’t know the meaning of that word. You’re just a bunch of barbarians.”

Xaphan drops hard on the floor, straddling Sam’s knees, and jabs the tip of her blade against his neck, right at the jugular. She doesn’t stab him but still presses hard enough to see some blood start dripping.

“Now you listen to me, demon boy,” she growls, making sure he’s looking her in the eye. “So far, you’ve been lucky. But unlike Sandalphon, I don’t see you as currency. I see you as a burden and I would have killed you the minute I had my hands on you. But him, he wants you alive. He seems to think that you’re important. Except, you’re not. Not really. As soon as we get our hands on that golden child of yours, it will be my greatest pleasure to come and slaughter…Each. And. Every. One. Of. You.”

At each of the last words she tells him, Xaphan nicks Sam’s skin with her blade. Just enough to draw blood. And she smiles.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” Sam tells her, trying to jerk his legs to throw her off him. She’s too strong and doesn’t budge.

“I’m a soldier, Sam Winchester. And we are at war,” she continues, now grazing the tip of her blade over one of his cheeks, staining it with his own blood. “It is a shame that I don’t have information to try and dig out of you. We could have had so much fun together,” she concludes before getting up.

Sam looks at the older lady putting herself back together, rearranging her charcoal skirt so it’d be straight again and trying to erase the creases in her red blouse. She then proceeds to flatten her blonde ’do, before turning to Sam.

“Do I look presentable?” she asks him, turning a little so he’d see her backside.

“Fuck you,” he says.

“Quite the gentleman,” she purrs, unvexed. “To prove to you that I’m not the monster you think I am, I will still have someone bring you some water. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”

~ ◊ ~

The first thing that strikes Dean as odd when he gets back to the bunker is the total lack of noise. It’s never loud but there’s always this quiet hum; papers ruffling, hushed conversations, fingers clicking on a keyboard. Even at night, now with angels working around the clock, there’s never a moment that’s ever this quiet. Something is definitely wrong.

That sentiment multiplies when he gets to the library and sees it empty. Nothing seems out of place, the table is just as much an organised mess as it’s been for the last few weeks. There’s no sign of a struggle or anything that would let him think something bad happened. Still, there’s nobody to be seen or heard and that is far from normal.

“Sam? Cas?” he calls, trying not to panic just yet. “Beth?” he calls again, his stomach starting to fold on itself.

He lets his bag drop to the floor and grabs the gun from his belt, on high alert. Something has happened, he’s certain of it. People just don’t disappear. Well, they do, but not on his watch.

“Sam! Cas! Anyone,” he calls again, much louder than before, only to be met with a faint echo of his own voice.

His phone chimes almost immediately to alert him of a text message. With his free hand, he takes the device and turns it on, trying to still keep an eye on his surroundings. The text is from Cas.

[ **Cas:** Beth’s bedroom.]

Dean puts the phone back in his pocket and all but runs towards the rooms, his gun still at eye level because, for him, nothing proves it really was Cas who sent that message.

When he gets to the hall, Cas is standing outside of Beth’s room. And he looks miserable. Dean puts away the gun and goes to stand in front of his friend, worried as hell.

“What’s wrong, Cas? Where’s Beth? Where’s everyone?”

The former angel grabs his arm and leads him to his own room, not bothering to close the door. He sits on the bed and pulls on Dean so he’ll sit with him.

“For fuck’s sake, Cas. Say something,” he says, taking back his arm and backing away from the bed. It can’t be good if Cas thinks he needs to sit down.

“Beth is okay, she’s sleeping,” starts Castiel, a worried look on his face. “It’s Sam. He was taken by Xaphan when he went to the store. I had told him to bring Sariel with him but he refused,” Castiel adds quickly, unsure of what Dean’s reaction would be.

“Fuck! Shit, shit, shit! It’s my fault, Cas. I pretty much ordered him to go buy the stuff for Beth! I should have listened to him and just bought everything on my way back,” he sputters as he sits down, increasingly nervous.

“Beth says he’ll be okay, but we had to do something. You won’t like it.”

“Did she know? Before Sam left?”

“I can’t say. She was feverish and quite unresponsive. He had already left when the Oracle spoke to warn us of what was happening.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good. So, what is it that I won’t like?”

“Penemue and Sariel…?”

“What about ’em?”

“I had to unbind them so they could go and rescue Sam.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, Cas,” Dean groans, burying his face in both his hands. “I told you… I told you this would happen. We’re fucked now, aren’t we?”

“Dean, they’re Sam’s only hope. If I didn’t do this, we’d have to trade Sam for Beth. And there’s no guarantee they still wouldn’t kill us all. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not. But you should have called me. I could have tried to find and get him myself. Letting the angels lose when they know—”

“That’s just it, they’re angels, Dean. The other day Metatron had to rescue you from just two of them. I can’t imagine how you would handle yourself against what is probably a lot more detaining your brother.”

“And you think only two angels can do much better?” he snaps.

“They still have five allies out there. Whatever you think, they _are_ on our side and they will get Sam back.”

“I hope you’re right ’cause nothing can prevent Penny or Sariel to come back and snatch the kid now.”

“What do you take me for, Dean? I reinstated the wardings against them. They can’t come back.”

“But Sam—”

“Sam can always come in. When they have him, they will call me and we’ll just do the ritual again before letting them back in.”

Dean exhales and it feels like he hasn’t been breathing right since he got in the bunker. Nothing is settled yet but he’s willing to try and believe it will be. Cas says Beth told him so and with all his heart, he wants to believe her.

So much for keeping a clear head about the kid.

It takes a moment for Dean to realize Castiel is much closer than he was only a second ago. And not only that, he also has his arm around his shoulders. His body tenses automatically, which results in Cas letting go of him.

“You were shivering,” the former angel feels the need to explain, getting up from the bed. “Are you better now?”

“Yeah, thanks. Probably the adrenaline wearing off,” he replies. “Sorry, I was just surprised,” he adds, disappointed not to have relaxed in his hold instead of tensing up.

“That’s all right. I will go back to watch over Beth.”

“How is she?”

“The fever has been down since her bath. But when she wakes up she complains of headaches. She threw up once more after Sam left. But it’s been a while now, I think she’s doing better.”

“If you’re tired, I can take over.”

“I’m all right. I’d rather stay with her, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. I’ll go take a shower and then come sit with you guys, is that okay?”

“Of course. I too won’t be able to sleep until I hear back from your brother,” Castiel smiles before leaving the room.

Dean nods – mostly to himself because he’s alone now – and gets off the bed to go get his duffle from where he’s dropped it earlier.

The night would be another long one.

~ ◊ ~

Penemue and Sariel have to wait close to two hours, sitting in a booth at the Biggerson’s in Hastings, before seeing the rest of their flock come and join them. The coffees they had ordered to be polite, as Castiel had instructed them, had been cold for a while now so Sariel goes and orders another seven coffees for them and their friends.

Now that the five angels have arrived, they do have to move to a bigger table. So they settle for a big round one in the middle. Everyone is a little nervous, feeling pretty exposed. It is the first time that they’ve all been together out in the open since the Fall. Sariel, as per usual, makes sure to keep a watchful eye all around them.

“What is so important that we would have to come out of hiding, Penemue?” asks Eremiel, sporting the vessel of a young woman with curly blonde hair.

“Sam Winchester has been abducted by Xaphan. He needs to be rescued.”

“The demon boy is none of our concern, Penemue,” spits Orifiel, his plump lips pursed in disgust.

“He is working in helping us regain access to Heaven, so he deserves our help. There is nothing demonic in that man, I can assure you.”

“Xaphan works for Sandalphon and they have an army of our brothers and sisters. We are outrageously outnumbered,” counters Eremiel.

“Why did they take him? What do they want? Does it have to do with the Oracle?” interjects Urim, inhabiting the body of an old Catholic priest.

“It does,” Sariel answers, keeping his eyes on the patrons around them. “And the Winchesters won’t give her up.”

“And they shouldn’t have to either,” presses Penemue, giving a stern around the table. “You all know we need their help to achieve our goal. Without them, we are bound to roam the Earth for eternity, or until we die. Each and every one of us is lucky enough to have found a suitable vessel but you know it is not the case for everyone. A lot of them are still wandering, lost in the ethereal plains.”

“We know,” agrees Urim, shaking his head. “This is how Sandalphon has so many of our brethren in his army. He helps them find vessels.”

“And not always in the most honest of fashions, I’m afraid,” confirms Ambriel. “I almost took a vessel he was offering, if I have to be honest. I am glad I was able to resist and find this one instead. At least Riku was fully aware of what I was asking of him,” he continues, flexing his delicate hands in front of his just as delicate face.

“As did his sister,” Selaphiel muses, nodding in understanding.

“Do we know where Sam Winchester is being held captive?” presses Orifiel.

“We do not have an exact location. But Sariel was able to get some information while listening in before we contacted you. We asked to meet here because it is approximately an hour away from where we think they are holding him, near a little town called Holdrege.”

“And do we have a plan?” Selaphiel asks.

“Not at this moment. We will need to know first where they are and how many are guarding him,” Sariel explains. “Who is a volunteer to go and gather information?”

“I am,” says Eremiel, looking around the table.

“And I,” also offers Urim.

“Perfect. Eremiel and Urim, you leave together and try to find everything you can about Sam Winchester and his captors. Sariel and I will go with the others and we’ll regroup in Holdrege as soon as you know more.”

“Perfect,” is all they say before leaving the restaurant.

Unwilling to endure the tedious task of waiting for their server to come back so they can pay for their bill, Penemue just grabs one of the twenty dollar bills Castiel has given her and places it on the table, confident it will be enough to cover the total of nine coffees they have ordered but never drank.

Of course it’s barely enough, and doesn’t include much of a tip, but angels certainly do not worry about such things now, do they?

~ ◊ ~

Sam isn’t sure what time it is, if it’s day or night, when he is awaken by the violent rumblings and shufflings over his head. Something is happening upstairs and it sounds very much like a rescue mission. Or maybe demons found the angels’ hideaway and launched an attack.

All he knows is that angels are dying. He knows because he can feel that high-pitched hissing noise drilling his brain and the whole place is vibrating. On instinct, he shuts his eyes and turns away from the only opening in the room. He’s not too keen on being blinded by heavenly lights just yet.

The commotion upstairs doesn’t last long. There’s a moment where nothing can be heard, leaving Sam to wonder if his hearing has been compromised. But then he hears movements over his head again and he stays still, doesn’t call out. He waits.

Nothing says the angels weren’t attacked by demons just now. And if that was the case, they’d only be glad to find him and bring him as a present for Abaddon.

He hears the door leading to the basement open and someone coming down the stairs. Not the same women’s shoes as before so it’s not Xaphan. The person on the steps makes a lot more noise, it sounds like a man is walking down.

“I found him,” he hears a man yell.

It’s not his brother, or Cas. He doesn’t know that voice. Sam opens his eyes and finds a large black man standing before him. His stare is anything but sympathetic but the fact that he’s holding an angel sword is in itself almost a relief. It shouldn’t be a demon.

Soon enough, he hears more hurried steps towards the basement’s opening. Three more people come down the stairs and he is relieved to recognize Penemue and Sariel amongst them. There’s a young Asian man with them too, who he recognizes as Ambriel.

“Penny, thank God! Where’s Dean, is he okay?” he asks, convinced his brother would have been part of the rescuing party.

“Your brother is safe at the bunker with Castiel and Beth. Do not worry,” she answers while working on the chains around his midsection.

“Oh, all right, that’s good,” he breathes, glad that everyone is safe. “I take it that Cas has unbound you then?”

“He did,” she confirms, breaking the manacles around his wrists.

His muscles are so sore that he can only slump back down with a groan, too weak to even try sitting straight. Without a word, Penemue just wipes his hair from his forehead, soothing all his aches and pains. In a matter of seconds, he is fully refreshed and energized.

“Thanks Penny,” he says, grabbing her in a hug, which she reciprocates.

“My pleasure, Sam. Now let’s leave, others will come soon.”

“How many were there?” he asks while they’re making their way out.

“Not more than a dozen.”

“And you four killed them all?”

A heavy silence falls upon the little group and nobody seems to be willing to answer. Still, Sam understands.

“Who?” he only asks.

“Selaphiel, Urim and Eremiel. They fought until the very end,” Penemue explains.

“I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone out but Beth was sick and—”

“You are not to be blamed, Sam,” Penemue reassures him. “We are at war and sadly, casualties are unavoidable. We all knew what to expect when we came to rescue you.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Sam counters.

“Indeed, it doesn’t,” concedes Orifiel whose expression hasn’t softened one bit since finding him. “We’ve lost three of our own to save you, and that is not counting the ones working with Sandalphon. They might be in a different faction, but they still are family.”

“That’s enough, Orifiel,” Penemue exclaims. “You know humans are precious to our Father. If only for that, saving Sam Winchester’s life was worth it.”

With all his heart, Sam wants to explain how he doesn’t think his life is worth more than any angel’s, or anyone’s, but he lets it go. This Orifiel character doesn’t seem to be the most human-friendly of them all and he’d rather not have him switch jerseys right now.

They finally get to the cars, which were parked a good twenty-minute walk from the farmhouse where Sam was held captive. Before they can part ways, Sam still wishes to thank the remaining allies they have so he offers his hand to Ambriel, a faint smile on his lips.

“Ambriel, I am sorry for your loss, and I don’t think I could ever thank you enough for saving my life. But we are working on finding a way for you guys to go back home. Same for you, Orifiel. I vow we will do all we can to make it better again,” he concludes, turning to the frowning angel, his hand extended.

Orifiel doesn’t respond nor does he take his hand and instead turns to Penemue.

“What are we expected to do now?” he asks, waving between Ambriel and himself.

“I think we would be of better use if we could participate in your research,” Ambriel adds, not looking at Sam either.

“Huh, guys…” Sam starts to say.

“Indeed, I think you would be of great help. What do you think Sam? I know your brother is in charge but do you think he would be accepting of two more angels?”

“Well, first of all he’s not in charge. He just has strong opinions,” Sam mutters, trying not to feel insulted by Penemue’s observation. “Second, yeah, I think we could use the help. I’ll still run it by Dean and Cas, but as long as we can bind all of you, it shouldn’t be a problem. Agreed?”

Of course, Orifiel is not happy at the prospect of seeing his powers being bound. But seeing how Penemue and Sariel seem to have been doing okay without them, he agrees. Because he might be a powerful warrior, finding himself on his own in the world trying to fend off an army of his congeners would certainly be a sure death.

And enough have died already.

~ ◊ ~

Whatever he had been saying, Castiel seems to have been tired enough because when Dean lifts his head from the book he’s reading, he can see the dark haired man has fallen asleep beside Beth.

Dean has been home for five hours. Sam has disappeared for twelve. And Penny hasn’t called them yet. Even if he wanted too, because he kind of needs it, Dean wouldn’t be able to sleep. He wonders how Cas can even be asleep right now but he guesses it has to do with the fact that Sam’s not his baby brother.

For the first time since he got the news of Sam’s abduction, Jody comes to Dean’s mind. He feels a bit bad to not have called to let her know what’s going on. Not that she could do anything but worry, quite frankly. He decides he will wait until morning to call and give her the news. Hopefully, by then, he will have heard about his brother and he’ll be on his way back.

“Are you okay?” he hears Castiel ask him. So maybe he wasn’t sleeping after all. Which means Dean kind of just got caught looking at him, lost in thoughts.

“Been better. You?”

“I’m exhausted. And nervous. And scared. Emotions are the worst,” the former angel complains in a murmur.

“Yeah, well you better get used to it. Especially now with a kid,” Dean huffs. “I was thinking of getting something to drink. Want me to bring you back some coffee?”

“Tea? And you don’t need to bring it here.”

“Wanna go to the kitchen?”

“I think Beth is feeling better. We can move to the kitchen for a little while, yes.”

They check on the girl, making sure her forehead isn’t too hot and clammy and that she’s breathing right before leaving the room, keeping her door open. The walk to the kitchen is a slow one they’re so tired. While Castiel slumps his lithe frame onto one of the stools, Dean fills the kettle and puts in on the stove.

At the last moment, he decides he won’t be having coffee, unwilling to bother with the percolator and chooses to have a cup of Ovaltine instead. Knowing how Cas is a fan, he shows him the box and quirks an eyebrow, convinced he’ll change his mind about the tea. No such luck. Castiel frowns and shakes his head. Tea it is then.

Dean does appreciate the fact that they can understand each other without the use of many words. Okay, they weren’t trying to have the most meaningful of conversations just now, but that was just a small example amongst many. Often enough, they would just know what the other was thinking, without needing to wink or point or mime.

To be fair, when he was an angel Cas had quite an advantage even though Dean had asked him not to use it. Having someone invade his mind and read his most private thoughts? That had been one of the scariest things Dean had ever encountered. And he’d spent forty years in Hell.

So he’s glad, if only for that, that Cas isn’t an angel anymore. Not that he didn’t trust him not to sneak a peak in his melon, but the angel had gone rogue before and during that time, Dean can’t be totally certain Cas hadn’t been cheating a bit to get his way.

“The water, Dean,” Castiel says, pointing to the kettle.

Of course, he’s lost in his mind again. Seems to be happening a lot recently. He pours water in both their mugs and puts them on the counter. He doesn’t bother taking out the milk from the fridge, as he knows Cas doesn’t need any. He sits on the stool next to his friend.

“So, how did it go with Jody?” Castiel asks, feeling the need to make some sort of conversation.

“Fine. She was pissed, of course. Probably still is a bit but we’ll work through it. And we owe her the skin of a certain King of Hell.”

“What can she ever do with Crowley’s skin?” Castiel asks, horrified.

“Not literally, Cas,” Dean laughs, then blows on his hot chocolate. “But he certainly deserves to die after what he did.”

“Hmmm… I think that maybe your brother would want to do this himself.”

“Oh, so you know.”

“That they like each other? Yes, I do. It is quite obvious,” Castiel smiles, taking the tea bag out of his mug with his spoon, pressing on it to extract all the water. “They deserve happiness and I am glad they would find it with each other,” he adds before taking a sip of his beverage.

“Yes, they do,” Dean only replies, not knowing where to go from there. So he tries to relax, sipping on his own drink.

“Which makes me think,” Castiel starts again, “I know now is not the right time but when everything is a bit more calm, I would appreciate your help with something.”

“Anything you need.”

“Do you know of any den of iniquities close by? Like the one you took me to in Maine that time?” Castiel asks, suddenly way too interested by the contents of his cup.

Dean is pretty proud of himself because he is able not to choke on his own spit when hearing his friend’s request. Now, the erratic beatings of his heart he can’t do much about, but he’s at least able to keep his features impassive enough.

“Wow… yeah, okay, I don’t think you’ll find a brothel around here, buddy. But maybe in Kansas City.”

“Which is quite far. Are there other means for me to find a partner for sexual release?”

“Ehr… Of course. Not all prostitutes work in brothels, you know. You can call an escort service or cruise the streets at night, this sort of thing. But man, you look nice enough; you might just be able to not pay for it. Apart for a couple of drinks, maybe,” Dean says, smiling even though he pretty much feels empty inside. But he told him he’d help, so he will.

“It is my understanding that people go to bars to find relationships, that’s not—”

“Oh, dude, no,” Dean laughs. “They think they do, but believe me, they really don’t. Those girls, they know what they’re in for. Bar hook-ups don’t end up in relationships. You go there, chat them up, be all smiles, pay for their drinks and they’re all yours, but only for the night. Often even less than that.”

“That hardly seems fair. Nor morally righteous.”

“It’s sex, man. What, you think prostitution is all ethical and shit?”

“Well, at least it is understood from the start that nothing is to be expected when the sex is consummated. They offer a service for which you pay. Everybody’s happy.”

“Man, you’ve changed since scaring the shit out of Chastity.”

“I was naive then. And I did not have the urges I have now.”

“Yeah, I get it. So I guess the self-pleasuring ain’t enough anymore? Don’t answer that,” he adds quickly, seeing his friend about to answer. “When Sammy gets back, we’ll find you some nice lady of the night to… scratch your itch, all right?”

“Thank you, Dean. I very much appreciate that.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean replies.

He’s cursing himself for ever having told Castiel to come to him with his sexual related issues. Now he’s stuck being the sympathetic ear to all of his friend’s intimate inquiries, exploits and everything else in between. Yeah, that’s gonna be a blast.

When Castiel’s phone rings, he is doubly relieved to learn  that it’s Sam. Most importantly, his brother is safe and sound but it also serves as a distraction for the thoughts he’s been having about the former angel. In bed. With some sexy lady. All sweaty. And panting…

“Hey, Sammy! You got all your bits and pieces? You’re coming back now?” he almost screams in the phone he snatched from Castiel’s hand.

“Hi, Dean. Yes, I’m okay and we’re driving back now. As I was trying to explain to Cas though, three of their crew have died saving my ass. So we’re bringing Orifiel and Ambriel back with us.”

“Sammy,” growls Dean, instantly forgetting about the sexy thoughts he was having just now.

“Look, Dean. I get it, you don’t trust them. But like Penny and Sariel were before, they will be bound. They saved my life, we owe them as much. If we don’t help them, they’ll be hunted and killed.”

“Yeah, fine! Who’s gonna do the binding?”

“I will. Cas had prepared everything and gave it to Penny before they left.”

“All right. Just make sure it’s you who does the binding. None of them, it’s real important Sam.”

“I know, don’t worry. Now, gimme Cas again, I still got things to ask about the ritual.”

“Okay. Be careful!”

“We will, see you soon.”

~ ◊ ~

“How many did we lose?”

Xaphan gives her superior a look that, in her own opinion, should be clear enough but still, she answers.

“All of them died. Only Araqiel and myself survived for the sole reason that we were not on the premises at the time. Purah was able to escape but died nonetheless.”

“So it would be safe to say that, would you have been there, you might have stopped this massacre. Am I correct?”

“Sandalphon—”

“Silence!”

The angel gets up from his seat, making the unkempt homeless man he’s inhabiting exude with grace and purpose. He walks towards his ally, his oldest friend, and stops to stand in front of her.

“I was so proud, Xaphan. When you told me you had found and grabbed the demon child… everything was going according to plan. We had the Oracle in our grasp. And then you go and lose the Winchester boy?”

“I didn’t lose him. We were attacked, Sandalphon.”

“And who was it? You can’t tell me that it was the work of his brother and that fallen angel. They’re not powerful enough to kill close to a dozen of our kind.”

“Of course not. It was angels, Sandalphon. Other angels rescued Sam Winchester.”

“Do we know who they were?”

“No… even though Purah, before she died, said she heard one of them address another as Sariel.”

“Sariel? I thought he died in the Fall.”

“He is as good as dead now, you can believe me,” Xaphan spits, her lips pursed.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Xaphan, you know I do. But it doesn’t change the fact that you lost our best hope of beating the demons in this race for the Oracle.”

“We have fought together for millennia, Sandalphon,” Xaphan starts to say while backing away from her superior. “You know how dedicated I am to you, to our cause. Isn’t this such a small mistake in comparison?”

“Heaven is no more, that is _not small_ ,” Sandalphon growls, following a retreating Xaphan. “I have to rule over our kind on Earth, that is _not small_ ,” he continues, letting his blade fall in his palm. “The Oracle shall be mine and nobody is to stand in my way,” he concludes, burying the blade deep in his oldest ally. “Farewell, brother,” he breathes, kissing the woman’s temple before letting the lifeless form fall on the ground.


	11. All Those Battles We Fight

_“And As God Has Become Silent_   
_His Exiled Children And Those Of A Fallen Son_   
_Shall Bring Destruction Amongst Their Own_   
_In The Shadows of the Gemini Saplings_   
_And When The Blessed And The Tainted Shall Fall_   
_The Messenger’s Child Will Be Mute Once More”_

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” grumbles Dean, looking at the notepaper in his hand.

“Not sure. Beth has never been this cryptic before,” Sam replies.

“Or maybe she would just interpret whatever got in her head so we’d understand,” shrugs Dean. “Maybe her translating thingy’s broken.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. It is quite understandable as it is,” affirms Castiel.

“Ah yeah? What does it say there, chief?” mocks Dean.

“Well, I think it refers to a battle that will happen between angels and demons.”

“We kind of already knew that.”

“And I understand that when the battle is over, Beth might not be able to tell the future anymore.”

“See, I got that much too,” tries to explain Dean. “But then, does it say who wins? And does it say why she can’t tell the future anymore? Is it because there’s no future to be told or is it because she’s fucking dead? See, that’s what I wanna know.”

“Or maybe the Oracle will cease to exist.”

“And how would _that_ happen?” Dean gets more anxious by the minute. If there’s something he hates, it’s vague shit like that. “You said they were pretty much sewn together.”

“I don’t know Dean.”

“Guys… you see how it says Messenger’s child, right?" prods Sam, exaggerating his pronunciation. "Not _Messenger Child_ … _Messenger’s_. Maybe it’s not about Beth at all.”

“You think it could go on long enough that she’ll be having kids?”

“Or… no, it can’t be,” breathes Castiel.

“What?” both brothers say, intrigued by the look on their friend’s face.

“The Messenger’s Child. Who do we know is, or was, a messenger?”

“Really? You think…” Sam starts, eyes wide.

“I’m afraid this is what the prophecy means. He could have very well done this almost seven years ago.”

“What? Who’s a messenger? We’re trying to decipher this thing, not make it even more complicated,” complains Dean.

“Gabriel! Gabriel is… was… God’s messenger. And now that I think of it, she does remind me of his latest vessel. Her eyes—”

“Ah man! Don’t tell me we got a Trickster on our hands? Wait, is she a naphtal… an angel hybrid?” sputters Dean.

“I don’t think so. I don’t believe Beth would have been conceived naturally but rather fabricated by Gabriel. He would have used some of his vessel and his grace but—”

“No wonder she’s so short,” snorts Dean.

“Dean, she’s six,” his brother chides him.

“Doesn’t make her any less short. So, what now?”

“I don’t think it changes anything. I do wonder what her becoming mute means though. There’s also that line about the Gemini Saplings that puzzles me. I would think it could refer to the battle grounds but at this point, it could be anything.”

“Do you think the angels could help us?” Sam asks Castiel, only to find himself with one if his brother’s fingers shoved in his face.

“We decided we would not include them in anything that’s not Heaven’s Gates related.”

“Well mostly, _you_ decided.”

“And I stand by my word.”

“Fine. But I hardly think the three of us can do anything against two armies of supernatural beings at war with each other.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they can just go and all kill each other off.”

“Dean,” Sam warns him, nodding towards Castiel who’s eyeing him sternly.

“Come on, Cas! You know what I mean. If we can’t do anything, I’d rather see them go at each other than come after us. That’s all I meant.”

“I know what you meant. Doesn’t mean I have to agree. The faster we can find a way to send everyone back home, the better. I’ll go help Penny and the others, if that’s all right with you,” he tells the brothers, leaving the kitchen to join the angel squad in the library.

“Nice going, Dean!”

“What? You’re saying I’m wrong?”

“I’m just saying you could be a little more delicate when talking about wanting all the angels dead.”

“Come on! It’s not that I want it, I just… forget it…”

They stay quiet for a while, not knowing what to say anymore. Sam is thinking that he’d better join the angel squad as well when his brother starts talking again.

“You know we’re gonna need help, right?” he says, keeping his eyes on the riddle.

“We would, but we’re pretty much all we got.”

“We had that offer some time ago…”

“You can’t seriously be considering to ask Crowley for help, Dean. Not him,” Sam growls, and Dean looks up at him, surprised. Sam _doesn’t_ growl.

“Not asking for help. Just… letting him know what’s about to go down so he’ll be there to try and regain his throne or whatever.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Better him than that Abaddon bitch. Crowley, we can handle.”

“We’ve had trouble with the guy before, Dean. And it’s not like he’s our friend. I can’t work with him; he killed Sarah. He tried to kill Jody for god’s sake. What more do you need?”

“What more do I need? To be able to get out of the bunker without being jumped by every angel and demon in creation. I want to be able to just hunt vampires and wendigos and fucking shape shifters. I’m tired of being Heaven and Hell’s puppet! Aren’t you?

“Of course I am. But agreeing to work with Crowley is pretty much bending over for the puppeteer so he can jam his hand up our asses.”

Even though the mood is extremely tense, or maybe because of it, both hunters pause to muse at Sam’s imagery and can’t help but laugh at the thought.

“Yeah, okay, that is _not_ happening,” Dean says between laughs. “But I do think that we should see if he’s able to even the odds a bit. Or at least take care of Abaddon.”

“Didn’t he ask that _we_ take care of her?”

“Yeah, he did. But I’m not doing this for free, man.”

“Wouldn’t you want to do it anyway?”

“Hells yeah! But when everything else was taken care of. Our plates are kind of full, don’t you think?”

“Well, we’re not doing much more than staying here nowadays.”

“You know what I mean.”

“All right, say we make a deal with Crowley, how do you figure we do this?”

“First, you gotta ask your girlfriend to move in here until it’s all over.”

“Not my girlfriend… per se… and she won’t.”

“Sam, I get it, she’s got a job to do. But she’s also the first person they’ll go after when we start stirring shit again.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee she’ll still talk to us when I tell her about this plan.”

“Then don’t tell her. All I know is that she won’t be safe out there on her own.”

“I don’t wanna lie to Jody, but I’ll still try to make her understand. And for that, we need to come up with a damn good plan.”

“I know! Now let’s go grab Cas back to try and come up with that plan before we call Crowley.”

“Yeah. Don’t you think we’d need to have a good excuse for him too?”

“He’ll understand it’s the best way to go.”

Sam shrugs, not willing to start another altercation with his brother. He knows they’ll have one of those with the former angel in just a minute. Still, he has to agree with his brother. Crowley’s their best, if only, chance against everything that’s happening right now.

It’s not with the angel squad, now down to only four members, that they could ever be a force to be reckoned with. And asking other hunters to join in is too uncertain. The number of them who have tried to kill them over the years, for whatever reason, just makes the Winchesters impossible to trust any of them anymore.

So once again, they’ll have to join forces with the King of Hell. And because of that, there’s a big chance Jody will want to have his balls for breakfast the next time she sees him.

~ ◊ ~

For some reason, it has been more difficult to convince Castiel than Jody that Crowley could be helpful. Of course, promising Jody that the demon would be killed as soon as it’s all over is a great incentive.

Castiel still hasn’t gotten over going behind his friends’ back all those years ago, and working with Crowley once more is a direct remembrance of that. Still, as Dean knew he would, Cas agrees. It’s not like they would be hanging out with the guy anyway.

So they’re now in Dean’s room, trying to come up with ideas on how to give Crowley what he wants and what to ask of him in return. They would rather be using the war room to strategize but, with the angels doing their research in the library just right next to it, it’d be difficult to keep it all from them.

They quickly come to the conclusion that they might have to talk to Crowley in order to come up with a proper plan. They don’t know what his manpower is, or demon-power rather, or what it is he wants. If it’s only Abaddon, they’ll need help to smoke her out. They can only hope she’ll fall for the same tricks a second time.

“The bullet thing had worked. It did keep her where we wanted her,” offers Sam.

“Yeah. Remember how she was able to take it out too?”

“We weren’t in the room, we would have stopped her, Dean. And this time, we’ll chop her up into little bits so she can never be put back together again.”

“And where do you figure we keep her? If we bury her, someone will eventually dig her up.”

“We got the bunker, Dean. Pretty sure there’s a crawl space somewhere we can dig into. If she’s here, cut up into several boxes, all sigiled up, she’s never getting out of there.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea, Sam,” smiles Castiel, nodding.

“If we have a crawl space.”

“We’ll find a way, Dean. If not, we’ll just keep the boxes in the storage room. It’d be just as safe… just more visible.”

“Maybe. Okay, so now that we know what to do with the bitch, how do we find her?”

“Crowley should be able to help, shouldn’t he?” Castiel asks.

“He’s hiding from her and her crew, I doubt he’ll be calling to invite her for a drink any day soon.”

“But he might if we’re there to take her off his hands.”

“Cas, she’s not stupid. She won’t be coming alone.”

“Well, we better ask Crowley if he still has supporters then. We’ll need the fire power.”

“Hey guys, I think I found something about Beth’s prophecy,” claims Sam who’s been messing around on his laptop.

“Yeah?”

“You know, that Gemini Saplings thing? So, we know Gemini is a constellation, right? Also called the Twins. And sapling, well that’s a young tree. At first it didn’t register but then I was looking at the map of the surroundings and I found this,” he announces proudly, turning his computer to show the hunters what he’s found.

On the screen is a blown-up map, showing a brownish area with a small lake. There doesn’t seem to be much in terms of population. The only indication on the map is what strikes a chord: Twin Oaks Reservoir.

“You think this is what she meant?”

“I don’t know. It does make sense. It would make a good battleground,” Castiel offers.

“What’s this place anyway? No civilians?”

“Seems that people can go fishing there but I didn’t find much information. I’ll have to dig a bit more.”

“And nothing tells us that’s the actual meaning,” Dean shrugs.

“Well, it is about mid way between here and where Xaphan was keeping Sam. Seems their base camp was there.”

“Okay! So let’s say that’s where it’s going down. We still don’t know when.”

“That’s something else Crowley might be able to find out,” Sam says, turning back the computer towards himself.

Nobody talks, pondering all they’ve been discussing so far. The plan they were trying to etch is riddled with holes, only because they have too little to go on. And having to deal with the King of Hell on top of everything isn’t making anything feel that much safer.

Taking his phone out, Dean fingers the slider and taps on his contact list, then on Crowley’s name. The last time the demon had called, it said “private number” on his screen but it might only have been something Crowley had done. Because if the number he has isn’t good, they’ll have to summon the bastard.

“Hey Squirrel, didn’t think I’d ever hear back from you,” the demon answers on the first ring.

“We got a plan but we need your help.”

“I told you what I want.”

“We’ll give it to you, but don’t think it’ll be free.”

“You trying to cut a deal there, lad?”

“Can you meet us?”

“You say when and where.”

“Alone!”

“Will you be alone?”

“Alone with our human super powers, you dickbag.”

“Very well. Where do you want me?”

“At Munchies in Smith Center, Kansas. Give us about an hour to get there,” Dean says before shutting his phone off. “Sam, mind if I ask you to stay here with Beth?”

“I can stay here, Dean,” replies Castiel, not too eager to meet with his former ally.

“Well… I was thinking, you know… Since we’re going out, you might wanna take care of that little problem you told me about,” Dean says, quirking an eyebrow and waving a hand towards the ex-angel’s crotch.

“Oh! You mean finding a lady of the night? All right.”

Neither Dean nor Cas pays any mind to Sam’s slight gasp and low chuckle. Dean only turns to him, still waiting for his answer regarding his staying at the bunker.

“Oh, yeah, of course, by all means. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on your kid while you guys go look for mommies,” he laughs.

Still, before leaving Dean’s room, he makes sure to make eye contact with Cas, trying to see if indeed he wants to be looking to hook-up with some random chick. Because he did confess having feelings for Dean after all. But Castiel just looks back at him and nods. Seems nothing would ever come of his confession.

“Dean, I don’t want to find a mother for Beth,” specifies Castiel when Sam has left.

“Relax Cas, he’s just pulling your leg. So, if you wanna score some ass tonight, you should go take a shower. And change into clean clothes.”

“Shall I wear my FBI suit? I notice in the movies that often enough, the men will wear suits in order to woo women.”

“First of all, you’re not gonna be wooing, you wanna do the dirty. Just a regular dude, a regular clean dude, that’s gonna be making some girl real lucky. Just go get ready. If you want, I can lend you some of my cologne.”

“All right. Thank you, Dean,” he says before going back to his own room to grab a new set of clothes.

Dean considers his own cleanliness and deems himself fresh enough. Anyway, he’s not the one chasing tail tonight. Even though it wouldn’t hurt to get some as well, he ponders. So he takes off his t-shirt and sniffs his armpit again. Yeah, okay, he could use a quick shower too. Who knows what’s gonna happen once they’re done with Crowley.

After deciding to wear his dark grey Henley, he grabs it, along with clean underwear, before strolling down to the shower room. He opens the door and is about to make himself known when he hears it. It’s not loud, and very low-pitched, but he still recognizes it for what it is. Cas is jerking off, right there in the shower stall on the left.

Normally, like if it had been Sam, he would have shouted some stupid thing hoping to make his brother feel as embarrassed as possible. After so many years on the road together he had lost count on how many times something like this had happened, him walking in on Sam or Sam walking in on him. It was never cool, but it was bound to happen and they had learned to laugh it off.

But this, well, this is new. Dean has seen, and heard, his fair share of guys panting and coming. And usually – and let’s not go there – there’s a hot chick involved in the process. But it’s porn, and that’s how it works and he’s made his peace with it a long time ago.

Cas, in the shower room, thinking he’s all alone and touching himself, not muffling his whimpers and throaty moans? That’s something else and Dean has to admit that he’s not finding it all that gross, whatever he might have said before.

And the worst thing is Dean is tempted to march to the stall and open the door. Because hearing him isn’t enough, he wants to _see_ his friend come apart. He wants to see how he does it, how he moves his hands, what he touches, how he strokes. Does he simply rub his dick or does he fondle his balls too? What about his ass? Or his nipples? Does he lick his fingers clean of his own come when he’s done?

All those images in his head are making him hard and he has to do something about it. So he opens the shower room’s door again, only to close it forcefully to announce his presence before running to the stall the furthest away from Castiel’s. His water’s not even on when he hears the ex-angel’s suppressed groans and the ragged breathing that follows.

 _“I have to find someone to fuck tonight,”_ Dean decides while grabbing at his own dick.

~ ◊ ~

Crowley’s already sitting in a booth when Dean and Cas get to Munchies. It’s small and a bit dingy but it’s close enough to the bunker and stays open until two am. It’s not like they have that many choices anyway. And every barfly in the county seems to be hanging around here too. Not too many ladies, unfortunately.

“I see you brought the hubby,” mocks the shorter man.

Neither of them dignifies the demon with an answer and they instead turn their attention to the blonde waitress that’s just appeared next to their table.

“A beer, whatever you’ve got on tap,” Dean tells her with a flirty smile. She’s a tad older than the women he usually goes for, but she’s got a nice rack.

“And for you, handsome?” she asks Cas, shutting Dean down and obviously flirting with his friend instead.

“Same thing, a beer please,” he answers, smiling back at her.

“Buddy, that girl likes you! You might have a shot with her,” Dean tells him when the waitress has left to get their drinks.

“But you told me the staff is usually nice to everybody and to concentrate on the other clients instead.”

“Yeah, but she clearly turned me down and then was all over you.”

“Have you girls come here to find a wife or can we get on with business?” breaks in a sarcastic voice.

“Relax there, Crowley. We’ll get our beers, then we’ll talk,” Dean spits.

“You know I could just kill you, right?”

“But you won’t. You need us, but I’m not sure why that is. Why you won’t take care of Abaddon yourself is beyond me. Are you that afraid of her?”

“Me? Afraid of that wench? You gotta be kidding me.”

“Don’t you think that if you got rid of her yourself, it might look good on your resume? All the other demons would praise you for it.”

Before Crowley can answer, the waitress comes back with the beers. Silence falls over the table, as much as it is possible in a somewhat crowded environment. Seems it isn’t crowded enough because Connie, that’s what the waitress said her name was, appears to be willing to stick around more than required.

Even after Castiel tries to tell her that they need privacy to talk business, she keeps on coming around. She asks if everything is all right, she wipes the table – it is now the cleanest table in the whole bar, including the rare unoccupied ones – tries to make conversation with Cas; touching his shoulder, his hand, trailing her fingers on his forearm.

“Dude, do something, tell her you’re not interested so she’ll stop coming over,” whispers Dean when she’s far enough from them.

“But Dean… you said I had a shot with her.”

“I have other places to be, love. I’d appreciate if your hussy would stop interrupting us,” Crowley growls.

“Look Cas, if you like her, take her number but she’s gotta stay away from the table for a while, all right? Go!” Dean pushes his friend, not happy to have to spend any more time than necessary with the demon.

“Look Squirrel, I can’t trust anyone. So if I were to go after Abaddon, how do I know that those who say they’re with me really are? The only way that can happen is if she’s out of the way.”

“Wow… a demon with trust issues, that’s rich.”

“I might be a demon, but I’m always true to my word. Sadly, it is not a common trait.”

“Like hell you are. Remember Bobby? We had to threaten to burn your bones so you’d give up on his soul.”

“That’s not lying. It’s called strategy.”

“And then again when he died?”

“What? I liked the guy! Wanted to keep that ol’ burly man to myself,” Crowley smirks.

“Whatever. The only reason we’ll be doing this is because Abaddon wants Beth. It’s certainly not for your pretentious ass.”

“If you’re looking to make a deal, then there has to be something you want from me.”

Dean turns back to where Castiel is chatting up the waitress. Well, it looks more like the waitress is chatting _him_ up. Finally, she hands him something before kissing him on the cheek. The hunter is a bit disappointed for the guy, he should have at least scored some lip on lip action, but Cas seems happy enough when he reaches the booth again. Dean doesn’t comment, just smiles to him then turns his attention back to Crowley.

“Yeah, we need something from you. Apart from the fact that Beth is off the table.”

“Told you, I don’t need her.”

“Even so, I’ll want it in writing. You were the King of the crossroads once, you’ll make this right.”

“Yeah, I remember the last time I tried to have you sign a contract.”

“Won’t happen again. We’re doing this for Beth.”

“All right. That’s it?”

“Far from it. We’ll also need you to smoke the bitch out.”

“You’re the ones killing her, you go find her.”

“Oh, we’ll deal with her all right. But you have a better chance of having her come to you.”

“I’m not signing up as bait. Use the kid,” Crowley growls.

“Out of the question. So that’s the first thing.”

“Technically, it’s the second thing,” offers Castiel, not so helpfully. Still, Dean corrects himself.

“The second thing. Then, the third thing we need is to know when the battle will be going down.”

Crowley quirks an eyebrow and looks at them, an innocent look on his face. Which, sadly, looks genuine enough.

“What battle?”

“Come on. You’re the King of Hell and you don’t know about the big brawl that’s about to happen? Angels versus demons, killing each other over the child? As if we’d let anyone get to her anyway.”

“Might I remind you that I’ve pretty much been out of the loop? And that particular loop doesn’t concern me at all.”

“Now it does. We need to know when it’s gonna happen.”

“Why? What in the hell could you ever do about it?”

“I’m not telling you shit. All I want from you is guarantee that Beth will be safe from demons, your assistance in finding Abaddon and details on the bloodshed.”

“Which won’t happen if you bloody get rid of Abaddon,” Crowley violently states, slamming his almost empty tumbler on the wooden surface of the table.

“Better start working on that contract and finding Abaddon, then. We might be able to avoid the third thing.”

Crowley swallows the last of the amber liquid he had been nursing and snaps his fingers, leaving the two guys alone in their booth.

“Thanks for the help there, Cas,” mocks Dean, pushing him so he’d go sit on the opposing bench.

“I think you had everything under control. You didn’t need my help,” Castiel says once he’s facing his friend. “But you think that if we kill Abaddon, there won’t be any battle.”?

“I doubt it. We might only get to her after, or while it’s going on. At some point she will try to get to the kid.”

“The Oracle could be wrong too. You know how nothing seems to be happening about Sam’s prophecy, right?”

“Well, she never said there was a point in time for Sam. As far as we know, Lucifer is still in the cage.”

“What if Abaddon lets him out?”

“I don’t think so. I guess it’s another problem we’ll have to deal with if and when it happens. Somehow I don’t think he’s anyone’s priority right now,” Dean explains to his friend with a humourless laugh.

Even though they are trying to lighten up the atmosphere, the stench of sulphur is still saturating the air, not letting them forget the reason they had come here in the first place. When Dean sees the waitress from the corner of his eye, he’s thankful there’s something else they can be talking about.

“So, how about that Connie chick? What is it you got there? Her number? Her address?” he asks, waggling his brows.

“It’s actually her friend’s number,” he says, fiddling with the piece of paper in his hand.

“Really? Why?”

“Well… I told her I wanted to have intercourse and then she said she wasn’t that kind of girl,” Castiel shrugs.

“Like hell she isn’t,” Dean mutters. “Then what, she passes you off to one of her more slutty friends?”

“Actually, her friend offers sexual favours in exchange of money. Not unlike they do at that place we went before.”

“Oh, I get it. Well, if you want my honest opinion, I think you’d better go to one of those places again and not call some random chick that whores herself on the side. She might not even be clean. You’re not an angel anymore, you could catch something.”

“Hum… venereal diseases… They do look rather unpleasant.”

“Indeed they are.” Dean winces at the memory of his dealings with crabs many years ago. They had been harder to eradicate than most supernatural beasts he’s had to deal with on a daily basis.

Dean grabs Connie’s note from Castiel’s hand and crumples it before throwing it on the floor. Like hell he’d let Cas call some low-class whore to be his first sexual experience.

“Dean, what do you suggest I do now?”

“We’ll find you someone better, Cas. There are real high class hookers out there, fine ladies who can show you a good time,” Dean answers, taking his phone out.

They might be in bumfuck Kansas, but there has to be one of the bigger towns close by where they could find the kind of entertainment they seek. They just have to know what to look for. But like he had thought before, Kansas City seems to be where it’s at. He would have preferred something closer but Cas needs this. The bunker can survive a day without them.

“Cas? How about a road trip? We could be in Kansas City in four hours, sleep a bit or go get you laid right on the spot. Whadda you say?”

“Dean, I don’t think we can leave everything to go “get me laid”.”

 _“Again with the air quotes,”_ Dean thinks, amused. Yeah, this guy needs it real fucking bad.

“It’s not like we’re leaving for a week, man. We’ll be back in the bunker tomorrow afternoon, early evening at the latest.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I’m calling Sam and we’re going to get you some sex, goddamnit.”

“Dean,” the former angel tries to reprimand him.

As always, he doesn’t listen to his friend’s recrimination about taking the Lord’s name in vain. Especially since the _Lord_ is supposed to be Metatron now? He just might curse at Him a lot more solely based on that fact.

“Hey Dean, how did it go?” Sam answers when he calls him.

“Crowley seems to be on board. We’ll have a contract for Beth. Then he’ll bring Abaddon to us.”

“Great. So you’re coming back or is Cas still on the prowl?”

“This place is a dive so we’re going to Kansas City.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Cas almost had a thing with the waitress but he was a bit too forward and she gave him her prostitute friend’s number instead. Told him we’d get him a _real_ professional. Kansas City’s the closest place where we can find some classy ladies.”

“Dean, if it’s so important to you, why don’t _you_ show him a good time?” Sam offers after hesitating only for a second. He’s being a smartass, but he’s also hoping it’ll put the idea in his mind.

“Sorry to disappoint Samantha, but you’re the girl in this relationship, not me. Why the fuck would he ever want that anyway?”

“I notice you didn’t say you didn’t want to.”

“Whatever, Sam. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you?”

“What does that even mean? Jeez Sam, messin’ around with dudes scrambled up your brain, didn’t it?”

He stops talking. _“Oh shit,”_ he thinks, remembering the promise he had made to Jody.

“Who told you? Jody?” Sam demands, his tone surprisingly even and anger free.

“Nah, I was just messing with you. Seems I was right though… didn’t think you had it in you, Sammy,” Dean replies in a cheery tone, hoping his brother will believe him. “So, gotta run if we wanna make it to Kansas City before dawn. Talk to you later, bitch!”

“Whatever you say, jerk! Still… think about it. Who knows, you just might like it.”

Dean hangs up, only to find Castiel looking at him with a puzzled expression.

“What?” he asks, unlocking the Impala’s door.

“You didn’t inquire about Beth.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, and most certainly sleeping at this hour. Sam would have told me if anything was wrong.”

“Instead you bickered about Sam being a woman again.”

“Don’t worry about it, man. He was just trying to give me pointers to help you and well, since you’re not looking for a dude, his ideas kinda fell flat.”

Dean starts the car and leaves the parking lot to reach US-36.

“Put a tape in? Whatever you’d like,” he tells Cas.

Which in itself is uncanny now that he thinks about it. With Sam he’s always so adamant on choosing the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole, and everything else. But Cas… Cas is okay. Well, as long as he picks a tape from the box that is. And of course, he always does.

Soon enough, Led Zeppelin’s _Good Times Bad Times_ fills the cabin. Knowing Cas, that means he’ll want to play all the albums, from I to IV, in order. And Dean’s okay with that, it’s not like he doesn’t like the music. He just finds it incredibly cute how Cas needs structure in pretty much everything he does, even when he’s listening to music.

Okay. Cute might not be the right word. Quirky… yeah… quirky’s better.

“I don’t know what I want, Dean,” Castiel says halfway through _You Shook Me_ , taking the volume down a bit so he could be heard.

“You don’t wanna go to Kansas City?” Dean asks, unsure what Cas means.

“No, I do… I just mean… I don’t know what I want. Sexually.”

“Nervous about losing your virginity or something?”

“I’m not being clear. I don’t know if I want a woman or a man.”

If anyone asked why the car just swerved, Dean would say he had wanted to avoid a puddle. But the truth is that Castiel’s words surprised him quite a bit. He’s only ever seen him being interested, if that’s what he was, in women. And he was – is – an angel of the Lord. So, gay? No, that’s not something Dean would have ever banked on.

“So you like guys then?”

“I don’t know, Dean. How can I know what I like? Until six months ago I didn’t have sexual needs so it never occurred to me how one would be better than the other.”

“But you wanted to find a girl—”

“I never said that, Dean. You only assumed I did.”

“Mainly because of Meg, and Daphne. Which do you like most then? Men or women?”

“They’re both beautiful in their own way. Some are more than others but it has nothing to do with their gender. I miss being able to see souls, that’s what I would be most attracted to. Your soul was magnificent, I sorely miss the sight of it.”

Dean doesn’t answer. Cas has told him more than once how his soul was especially bright and for him it never meant anything. Still doesn’t. But he knows that liking someone’s soul doesn’t mean you wanna get down and dirty with them. Well, not when you’re an angel at least, Castiel has confirmed as much.

He’s got this fleeting thought, an alien idea in the back of his mind. That if Cas wants a guy, then Dean maybe could be that guy. But soon enough, the thought is batted away, too many issues at hand. The first one being that if he wants to keep Cas around, then he should not use him as some random hook-up.

And if Cas wants a guy, then he deserves one that’ll show him a real good time. Not one that might mess it all up because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing and most certainly would shift into some kind of gay crisis afterwards, if not right in the middle of everything.

For his first time, Cas deserves to be taken for the ride of his life. So if it be pussy or dick, Dean intends on finding him the best of the best.


	12. What Do You Want?

The brothel Dean and Cas end up visiting in Kansas City is very much reminiscent of that one they’d been at in Maine. The main lounge is all made up in dark woods and deep reds, the lights are dimmed and there’s some country-blues playing in the background.

They are sitting at a booth and the room is close to empty, only two other clients are present and they’re sitting at the bar. On the table are two menus clad in red vinyl, one for drinks and the other for services. A beautiful blonde comes over to them, all smiles, and starts reciting the rules of the house.

“And are you on the menu, sweetheart?” Dean asks, flirting only by force of habit because he’s pretty sure she’s not.

“You should be this lucky! No, as I explained before, the only girls you can get are the ones in lingerie,” she says with a wink.

“Well that’s too bad,” Dean winks back.

“I’ll be back with your drinks,” she replies, sashaying towards the bar.

“So Cas, see any girl you’d like?”

The former angel only shrugs, looking around to examine the lesser-clothed ladies in the room. Frankly, now that he can’t see souls, humans pretty much all look the same to him. Not Dean, Sam, or Beth, because he knows them well enough. But strangers? They’re just a big pile of various flesh tones with nothing special to tell them apart.

“Where are the men?” he asks the waitress when she comes back.

“Oh! You’d have to go in the next room if you want a guy, sweetie. Want me to ask Marcel to find you a booth in the guys’ lounge?”

“It’s up to you, Cas,” Dean says when his friend sends a questioning gaze towards him.

“I’ll think about it, thank you,” he replies, taking a sip of his beer.

“Al right. Just let me know if you need anything, my name’s Belinda,” she smiles and walks away.

“I would have hoped both men and women would be in the same room,” Castiel says when she’s gone.

“Why? We just can change rooms, like she said.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’ll find a man more attractive than a woman. Frankly, right now, everyone looks the same to me.”

“So you could go with anyone?”

“I suppose so.”

“Look, we came here as soon as we got in town so we have some time. Why don’t you try them both?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well… go with a girl. Then, go with a guy. That might help in knowing what you like best.”

“I can do that?”

“Dude, you can do whatever you want.”

“Won’t that be overly costly?”

“Look… you know how we make our money. So what if Sam and I gotta hustle some more pool or burn out another credit card, huh? Our lives are shit anyway, might as well try and have some fun.”

“Okay. Then I will try heterosexual intercourse first.”

“Great. Just please try not to scar her for life, would you? Don’t talk about her father, God, iniquity, none of that bullshit. Tell her what feels good and what doesn’t ’cause that’s all she’s gotta know.”

“I wouldn’t know about her life anyway.”

“Yeah, and that’s probably best. So, who’s it gonna be?”

Castiel ends up selecting a petite brunette with immense hazel eyes wearing a white baby doll with fluffy wings, a little like those Victoria’s Secret models would wear. Dean, even though he’s dying to comment on it, elects not to and watches his friend follow the girl up the carpeted stairs. He’s at least glad to see the guy’s not as nervous as he had been the first time.

While he waits, Dean drinks. He had thought at first that he’d be getting a girl for himself but right now, there’s not one of them that’s grabbing his attention. So instead, he has Belinda bring him a couple more beers, until he’s tired of the taste and decides to switch to whiskey.

He’s swallowing the last of his second double when he sees a slightly rumpled, but smiling Castiel comes down the stairs. The look on his face is an unmistakable one. The guy had some major fun and Dean can’t wait to hear about it – without too many details, of course. He waves to Belinda and signifies that he wants two more of what he’s been having before looking at his friend who’s back in the booth.

“So?” he only asks, grinning.

“It was… I believe I now understand the humans’ obsession over sex,” Castiel replies, still a bit flushed.

“That good, huh? Well, she _is_ a professional. Told ya you’d get it good.”

“Indeed. Thank you, Dean,” Castiel smiles.

“So sweetie, I take Holly treated you well?”

“Very well, thank you Belinda. You work at a fine establishment,” Castiel beams. “Now Dean, about the men…”

The hunter hadn’t forgotten about the discussion they’d been having, but he kind of hoped that boning the girl would have proven enough for Castiel. Which, it now appears, wasn’t the case.

“You’re sure you’re up for it? Don’t you wanna wait a little while before you go back out there?”

“I do know about the necessary refractory period, Dean. But even though my experience with Holly was a great one, I can’t say it was better than with a man as I have never tried it.”

“Nah, I get it… it’s just… You looked so happy just now, I thought you had a revelation or something.”

“Well, sex was a revelation in itself, yes. I knew about sex, but only through self-pleasuring. Now I had to deal with many new components. I know the human body and everything but I had never experienced touching a woman. It’s a lot different than Jimmy’s body and it reacts much differently too. It is rather… complicated, yet marvellous.”

“Of course it is,” laughs Dean.

He doesn’t want to be laughing at his friend but after an hour he’s exactly where Dean has been after 36 years. Okay, more like 76 if you count in Hell-years but let’s not go there.

“So, wanna go in the other room now?”

“Might as well,” Castiel says, grabbing his glass and getting up. He waves at Belinda so she’d come over.

“So guys, ready to switch it up?” she quips.

“We are, if you would show us the way please.”

“Okay, so see this door, it leads you to a hall, where the restrooms are. At the other end of the hall there’s a blue door, that’s the men’s lounge. I’ll transfer your tab to Marcel, he’ll be taking care of you once you’re there.”

“Thanks Belinda. You’ve been lovely,” Dean tells her, handing her a fifty-dollar bill and kissing her cheek.

“Thank you handsome. Now go get your boy some more tail,” she murmurs, patting his butt.

~ ◊ ~

The men’s lounge is very similar to the women’s, practically a mirrored room, except for the fact that it’s all in deep blues instead of reds. Ironically, or not, they get pretty much the same booth they had on the other side.

Only on this side there’s a couple more clients, scattered about at tables or in booths, nobody sitting at the bar. And a few more guys are working the floor than there had been girls in the other room. For a state like Kansas, Dean was sure they would have found the place fairly empty and devoid of many male hookers.

But it seems it’s the more popular of the two lounges. At this particular moment anyway.

“Are you boys all good?” comes a smoky voice from next to them.

Dean looks up to see a good-looking man with hair that’s way too long, tied in a ponytail. Damn, now he’s thinking of Sammy. Great!

“I am looking for a man,” Castiel answers, ever so ready to share the obvious.

“I got that much, sugar! How about drinks, you’re good?” he asks the both of them, eyeing Dean’s almost empty glass.

“I’ll have another double of that house whiskey you got. How about you, Cas?”

“I’m good, thank you. I would rather not be too intoxicated when I get to have sex again.”

The waiter guffaws at Castiel’s reply and doubles back to reach the bar.

“We will have to go home at some point, Dean. Maybe you should stop drinking or else you won’t be able to drive.”

“I’m good, Cas. Anyway, there’s a motel like just two streets over, we’re not going back home immediately when you’re done. I’ll need to sleep, and so will you.”

“Maybe you’d prefer to go wait for me then? Get a room and sleep. You do not seem to be willing to engage in sexual activities yourself.”

“Don’t you worry about me, Cas. Find yourself a dude, I’ll wait for you and then we’ll leave together, all right?”

“You can still go in the other room and find a girl. I know this here is not what you appreciate.”

“Don’t mind me, I said. Do your thing, I’ll do mine,” Dean grumbles, starting to be annoyed with Castiel’s apparent inclination to get rid of him.

“All right,” the ex-angel says, looking around the room to see if anyone catches his eye.

Again, it’s all a blur of flesh tones, from pale to dark, naked limbs walking around, just a lot of human males parading in their underwear. Still, one seems to be standing out, if just a little. He’s muscular, slightly tanned, has short light brown hair. He’s too far for Castiel to know what colour his eyes are but he does wish they’d be some shade of green.

The man sees Cas observing him and he smiles, knowing full well he’s been chosen. And while he’s walking over to their table, Castiel can feel his heart starting to race. If it’s any indication of anything, he knows full well that hadn’t happened with Holly. But the former angel is not stupid either; he understands how the prostitute coming his way looks a lot like Dean. Hence the beating heart.

When the man is close enough, Castiel sees that his eyes are not green but rather a light shade of blue. Which, to be frank, is far from unpleasant.

“Hey there, baby,” the man says to Castiel, sliding his stare briefly to Dean before getting back on him. “Want me to show you a good time?” he asks, his voice smooth like velvet.

“I would very much appreciate it, yes,” replies Castiel, a shy smile on his lips.

“Then let’s go upstairs, shall we? Your friend can come too,” he adds, looking once more at Dean who only shakes his head with a thin smile.

“All right, suit yourself handsome. Come on baby, let’s go have some fun,” the hooker says, grabbing Castiel’s hand and pulling him up from his seat, then up the stairs.

Dean looks on as his friend follows his second partner of the night, but this time he’s not as amused by it. Not that he’s jealous, of course not, why would he be, shut up!

It’s just… not that he wants to make this all about himself or anything, but the hooker did kind of look like him. “ _It must have been a trick of light,_ ” Dean decides, knowing he’s not the only guy out there with that hair colour or that type of haircut.

Add a tiny bit of alcohol and yeah, he might see a little of himself in pretty much every guy he sees. Except that one in the corner over there. He’s actually nice looking too, if you consider that Dean’s not into guys… most of the time.

That’s when it hits him. He’s surrounded by a herd of male prostitutes, somewhere far enough from home. Cas is here but he’s busy doing his own stuff. Why shouldn’t he try and see if the guy on guy action is something he could enjoy? He gulps the whole double drink Marcel has brought him and closes his eyes while he waits for the burn in his chest to settle.

When he opens them again, he sees the dark haired man he’d been looking at standing much closer than before. And he’s looking at him with unnaturally blue eyes. He’s not sure if it’s putting him off or if he likes it, but he certainly finds them mesmerizing.

“Whatcha lookin’ at there, baby?” the man purrs when he’s close enough.

“Your eyes… they’re weird,” Dean says, not sure how else to put it.

“They’re contacts. I don’t like my eyes, they’re brown and boring,” he explains with a soft Spanish accent and smiles, coming around the booth to stand next to Dean.

“Oh, I see… that’s cool. It’s just weird… it’s super bright.”

“I know. They make my eyes shine like sapphires.”

Dean only nods, unsure of what he wants to do. The guy’s cute enough but not to the extent of giving him funny feelings in the pants. To be fair, there’s not one guy in the room that does it anyway.

“Are you gonna stare at me for free all night or are you gonna pay for some private time?” the man asks, teasing.

“Huh… dunno yet…” Dean sputters, a little uncomfortable.

“You better know soon, baby, ’cause that big guy over there has been checking me out too. And I’d rather go with you,” he murmurs, grabbing one of Dean’s hands.

And Dean knows – he _knows_ – this is all a tactic. Yeah there’s a big guy and maybe he wants this dude but he also knows that usually, the clients won’t waste any time. They want, they take, and that’s all there is to it. And even though he knows it’s pretty much a sales pitch, Dean still goes with it.

“What’s your name?” he asks, trying to make it all feel like a regular hook-up.

“Rafael,” the young man says, letting the R roll softly on his tongue.

Dean huffs, not needing to be reminded of that dickwad at this particular moment.

“I’ll have to call you something else. I knew a Raphael and he was the biggest asshole.”

“I chose this name because of the angel, you know? You’d think anyone by that name would be the nicest person. But fine, you can call me Ray… is that better?”

Not willing to lose any more time on the name thing, Dean just nods. Then he tilts his head towards the stairs with a questioning look, indicating he’s ready to follow him. Ray only replies with a huge smile and pulls him towards the staircase.

And now that Dean’s mind is made up, he is both intrigued and relieved to feel his dick perking up at the idea of getting some sort of action.

~ ◊ ~

Ray is laying on the bed, fully naked – he only had a pair of mesh boxer briefs to take off after all – and waits for Dean to divest himself. For now, the hunter’s chest is bare but everything below the belt is still hidden. And he looks like he’s frozen in time, if anything like that was ever possible.

“Baby, let me take care of you. I swear I’ll be gentle,” says Ray, feeling a bit sorry for his client.

“No… I can do this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I kinda do,” Dean breathes, ultimately kneeling on the bed in front of Ray.

“Want me to kiss you and see where that takes us?” Ray whispers, sitting up to talk right into Dean’s ear.

Dean closes his eyes and inhales, taking in the aromas surrounding him. Nothing smells bad, but nothing smells particularly good either. He can smell Ray’s clean skin with an underlying sheen of sweat. Again, nothing bad, but nothing enticing either. He’s had his mouth water when smelling some girls’ skin, their perfume and light sweat mixing together in the most delicious of fragrances. Not the case here.

But he decides he won’t let this stop him. Of course Ray won’t smell like a girl, he’s a dude, and dudes are different. Their smell will be stronger, their colognes will be more woodsy, and it’s a scent he’ll have to get used to. If he were to be into men, that is. Because right now, he’s just more and more convinced that he’s not. Like this guy, with all his pretty, is obviously not doing anything for him.

Still, he turns his face slightly to capture the man’s lips with his. It’s not a hungry kiss, it’s not a timid one either, it’s almost polite. But Ray doesn’t seem to be that much into politeness and decides he’s taking charge, pressing harder on Dean’s lips and moving his around, prodding at Dean’s mouth with his tongue in the hopes that his client will let him in.

Which he does, because right now it’s not so bad. Dean would have expected to feel stubble but he soon realizes that Ray’s skin is baby-bottom smooth. As are his lips. Damn, it’s like kissing a woman. If he keeps his eyes closed, the illusion is close to perfect. But Dean is a tactile individual. Soon enough, his hands start roaming on the body before him and – fuck – the hard lines and the lack of boobs quickly throw him off.

“See, it wasn’t that bad,” breathes Ray when Dean pushes himself back.

Once more, Dean just nods. He’s pretty much brain-dead right now, trying to decipher what’s making him feel like he could blow chunks. Is it the kiss? Because that’d be stupid, the kiss was pretty nice. Is it the fact that he grabbed a pec instead of a boob? What would be the difference between a pec and a minuscule boob, right?

“Look baby, I know you’re nervous and all but the clock’s ticking. You might wanna get on with it,” Ray says, a bit less patient than he’s been so far.

He doesn’t reply, but Dean agrees with him. So he puts back a hand on Ray’s chest but not to caress him, only to push him so he’d lie down again. Then he decides he’ll stop being a little bitch and do what he came here to do, letting his hand travel slowly down Ray’s body, grazing a nipple on the way. The man squirms a bit, either because he is ticklish or because he likes it. Dean doesn’t ask.

Soon enough, his eyes are on Ray’s dick and that’s where his trembling hand is aiming at. Not a big deal, it’s just a dick, he’s got one of those, he knows how they work. He’s trying to swallow down all the counter arguments he has, ready to explain how he does not want to do this. He _needs_ to at least try.

Dean is surprised in hearing the slight gasp Ray lets out when he finally grabs his shaft. And he’s not sure he likes it that much. It’s too low and masculine. And yet, when he had heard Castiel’s cavernous whimpers, it made him hard in a second. Thinking about Cas now, unfortunately, makes his dick perk up into a full semi. Ray notices the change in Dean’s pants and smiles, glad to see his client is enjoying himself after all.

“Oh baby, get out of those pants now, would you? I’d love to see what kind of weapon you’re concealing under there,” he hums, fucking himself in Dean’s fist.

Without answering, Dean just squeezes the foreign flesh in his palm. A low moan indicates he’s done well and he starts moving his hand a bit, trying to mirror the rhythm the man had going on before. He gets another idea and uses his other hand to stabilize Ray at the hips.

“Wait,” he only says, grabbing the man’s erection at the base.

He has to try something. It’s probably what he likes most done on himself. And if he can’t do it, then it’ll be done, Dean Winchester won’t be gay in the slightest and he’ll know it for sure. Better know now then after trying to hook up with his best friend and not being able to put the money where his mouth is.

Quite literally, in the present case.

Dean looks at the dark red glans and inhales deeply. He can do this.

“Wait a sec there, baby! Rubber,” Ray warns him, throwing a foil packet a his head. “I’m clean but that’s how the house works.”

Of course, Dean had known that. He rolls the condom on the prostitute’s cock and takes a deep breath and plunges, putting his lips on the head, as if kissing it. Another deep breath and he opens his mouth to take the head in his mouth, trying for some tongue play as well.

His heart is beating erratically but he knows it’s not out of the excitement of having a dick in his mouth, especially with it tasting like suck-ass artificial strawberries. It’s fear, and disgust, and every other little thing that’s confirming to him that he should not be here. He should not have Ray’s dick in his mouth, wrapped or not.

When the hooker tries to gently guide his head down, Dean takes his mouth off and gets back on his feet at the foot of the bed, almost falling backwards he’s so spooked.

“Oh, baby! I thought you at least liked guys a little,” Ray says, sitting up once more.

“Yeah… well I thought I did too,” Dean just shrugs, picking up his Henley from the floor.

“Look, we still got some time. Wanna talk about it while I blow you?” Ray asks, getting on all fours and crawling towards Dean. “I wasn’t lying earlier, I find you really cute and I’d love to make you happy.”

“Yeah, well… no, thanks. I’m pretty sure me liking girls isn’t a one way street.”

“Okay, no blow job. Can I at least see it?” Ray asks, cheeky.

“Are you gonna pay me?” Dean replies in kind.

“Fine, suit yourself. But I was serious when I said you could talk to me. You paid for the whole hour, you might as well use it.”

Even though Dean’s not the type of guy to dwell on his emotions, or talk about them, or even think about them, Ray has a point. Plus, he’d be the perfect person to try and explain what might have happened to Dean when Cas was in the shower. He must have seen and heard a lot of shit over the years.

“Fine. I have this friend, this best friend actually. He’s pretty new to, well, everything—”

“Is he retarded?”

“No, come on… let’s just say he was in some kind of sect.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah! So this friend, well… I like him very, _very_ much. And maybe a little more than that. But I’ve never had a… a taste for guys in my whole life, you know?”

“Hmm… is he effeminate?”

“No, not at all. He’s pretty rugged actually, can be scary as shit. A real badass—”

“Okay, so what… all of a sudden you wanna fuck the guy?”

“Well, no… I’m not sure… see, where we live we kinda have those commune showers. It’s all separate stalls but you get the picture. And earlier I went to take a shower while he was already there and I heard him… he was masturbating. And it made me horny as hell.”

“Oh baby, maybe you just got high on sex noises.”

“Maybe, but I wanted to go to him. Open the door and look at him.”

“Did you wanna help?”

“I hadn’t gone that far in my mind. I went to my own stall and jerked off.”

“Let’s test this theory I have then. See that job you didn’t finish?” Ray asks while taking off the condom off his semi-erected dick. “I’ll finish myself off, then we’ll see if the noises get you all hot and bothered.”

Again, Dean shrugs. After all he paid for the guy, might as well get a show out of it, even though it’s not the kind of show he usually enjoys. So he watches as Ray starts touching himself with a freshly lubed hand, stroking the length of his dick slowly, twisting his wrist at the top, grazing at the slit with his thumb. Ray lets a contented sigh before bringing his other hand down to his balls. And Dean looks, because it’s there and offered, but so far it doesn’t do much for him.

“Tell me your story, baby,” Ray breathes, spitting in his already damp hand. “Tell me about your friend,” he says again, a hitch in his breath.

“Huh… there’s not much to say. We’ve known each other for a while now, he’s saved my life, we fought together, through thick and—”

“Oh god… You’re soldiers? That’s so hot…” Ray whines, letting his back hit the mattress and bringing his knees up and apart.

Dean is starting to feel a little out of place. He knows Ray is putting on a show but since it’s pretty much lost on him, he’s thinking he’d rather leave the room. But he sucks it up, determined to _know_. He tries to ignore the sound of the lube’s plastic cap being popped open again.

“Of sorts, yeah. We’ve been through a lot together and the last thing I wanna do is fuck it up, you know?”

“Unh huuunnnh…” is the only reply he gets while the guy’s fingering himself, gyrating on his own lubed fingers.

From this angle, Dean can’t see how many are up there and he’s not dying to know either. But his mind still hasn’t forgotten the images from the previous day, when Dean had wondered if Cas was playing with his own ass. And that’s when Ray’s display starts to work on him.

Now that he’s thinking about Cas doing what Ray’s doing, Dean’s dick just wants to jump out of his pants. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine that Cas is in the room with him. If he gets on the bed and gets close enough to Ray, he can think that the body making the springs creak is Castiel’s. That the heat generated is his friend’s.

“Huh, baby, you like that, huh?” he hears Ray tell him when he sees he’s palming his crotch over his jeans.

“Shut up,” the hunter growls, unwilling to see his fantasy die out.

To which Ray only answers in a low-pitched whine. Not gravelly enough, but it’ll have to do.

Before he can lose any of the juice he’s got, Dean undoes his fly and brings his jeans and boxers down, low enough to let his length flow free.

“Suck,” he says, bringing his dick closer to Ray’s mouth. “And shut up,” he adds again, grabbing a handful of hair from the head that lands on his groin after his dick has been properly gloved.

And the guy’s good, he’s got to give him that. Dean keeps his eyes closed, making sure that all he can see (imagine) is Castiel going down on him. Not that he’d know how that’s like but right now, it’s pretty much the closest he’d ever get. Still, there’s something missing, apart from the man himself. It’s the stubble. For some reason, Dean feels like he would love the burn of Cas’ facial hair on the inside of his thighs.

So he tries to imagine it, running his hand on his own stubble to get the sensation about right. Oh yeah, he’d love that, he’s sure of it. Also, the lips on his dick aren’t plump enough but the hooker’s quality work pretty much makes up for it. With his mind full of naughty images of his angel and a warm dexterous mouth on his junk, Dean comes fast and hard with the name of his friend on his lips.

Soon enough, his dick is free again and is deflating quickly in the condom, which is quickly pulled off of him. When Dean opens his eyes, he sees Ray knotting its end and dropping it in the trash, looking at him intently. He then resumes pumping his own dick earnestly. It doesn’t take long for the man to tense up and come all over himself with a sound that Dean finds way to high-pitched. Cas’ sound had been so hot…

“So baby, what are your conclusions?” Ray asks, playing around with the come on his belly while Dean is pulling his pants and underwear back up after he’s cleaned himself with some tissues.

“Well, you have an amazing mouth,” he feels the need to answer.

“Thanks! You got an amazing dick.”

“So I’ve been told,” Dean tries to joke. “I think I only got a thing for my friend though. You’re nice and all but you didn’t do anything for me until I started thinking about him.”

“I figured as much. You wouldn’t be the first Het to change team for this one person, you know.”

“Whoa there! I’m not changing anything, what are you even saying?”

“Sorry, my bad. I thought you loved the guy.”

“I like him a lot but I don’t do relationships, so—”

“Then what was the point of all this?”

Dean doesn’t know what to answer. He must have had a reason to get it on with a male hooker but at this moment, he’s drawing a blank.

“I don’t know. Curiosity? Boredom? Being drunk and horny?”

“You keep telling yourself that, baby! Unless that friend of yours is totes hetero, I don’t see what you’re doing here with me.”

“We all got our issues, man. Time for me to get back to my life I guess. Thanks for… the talk and… you know…”

“The oil change?” Ray mocks, getting up from the bed.

“Yeah,” Dean sniggers.

“I’m just glad you didn’t punch me after you came. It’s been known to happen with guys like you,” Ray says, still smiling even though the words are bitter.

“No way, dude! I may be all macho and shit but I’m not a moron,” Dean says, concerned he could have been mistaken for such an ignorant asshat.

He nods and smiles before taking a step out of the room, only to meet Castiel who’s coming out of the opposite door. He’s all flushed and sweaty and his hair, which is never perfectly coiffed, is even more of a mess than usual. But his eyes, while sparkling, are wide with shock. Or at least that’s what it looks like to Dean.

Dean stands there, looking back at him, not knowing what to say or do. It’s not like he owes the guy an explanation, does he? They’re not even close to having any kind of relationship other than being friends. Hell, Cas just fucked some guy and some chick before that. So why is he looking at Dean as if he’d just betrayed the shit out of him.

“So, you’re out or what, baby? Not that I would mind a rematch…” Ray says behind him because Dean is still half standing in the room.

The hunter doesn’t answer and just fully steps out in the hall, approaching Cas who quickly turns away from him and starts walking towards the stairs. Again, Dean senses he should be feeling guilty for something but he doesn’t know what for. Because frankly, he doesn’t have anything to feel guilty about. Could Cas really be pissed at him because he’s experimented in some queer sex? Or, tried would be a better way to put it but Cas doesn’t know that.

If indeed he’s pissed about that, it would certainly be the most hypocritical thing in the world, seeing how he’s just done the same. Or maybe he thinks that having been a virgin since the dawn of time gives him some fucking latitude to do whatever he wants. So Dean decides he’s not gonna care about what Cas thinks. If he’s going to be prissy about Dean wanting to experiment a little on his own private time, then so be it.

Like hell he’s going to apologize to anyone for wanting to know if – mostly because he’d have to explain – _Fuck!_

He runs to reach Castiel before he starts going down the stairs and grabs his arm roughly. The man turns to him, his features back to being cold and impassive, like the angel he once was.

“What?” he groans, eyeing the hand on his arm.

“Just… just don’t tell Sammy, all right? Or anyone for that matter,” he feels the need to ask, choosing to ignore the wavering in his friend’s stance at his words.

“Of course. Don’t worry, Dean,” replies Castiel before tugging his arm back and walking down the stairs hurriedly.

Castiel doesn’t go back to their booth and instead tries to leave but the bouncer won’t let him, even though Cas is telling him with apparent force details and gestures that Dean will be the one paying the bill. More than inclined to leave the place, Dean finds Marcel to pay their dues, which comes to a substantial sum, tips included. He gives him all the cash he has left, including the Impala’s emergency fund he had been keeping in the trunk.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the bouncer opening the door for Cas, who doesn’t hesitate one second before leaving Dean alone inside. _“Well fuck you too then,”_ Dean thinks bitterly before making his way to the door that’s been held opened for him too.

“Have a good day, sir,” the muscle man states with a smirk, to which Dean only nods.

A good day indeed as the sun has come up already. Cas has reached the car and he’s waiting for him, offering his face to the morning rays. Dean reaches the car and gets in without a word before unlocking the passenger door. He’s drunk, he’s tired and now he’s fucking pissed so he decides not talking is the way to go. The former angel seems to have already boarded that train anyway.

They don’t speak on the short drive to the motel. Nor do they speak when they get into their shared room, even though Dean seems to catch some reproach in Castiel’s glare when he comes back from the office with keys to only one room. They’re not speaking when they get up early afternoon and each get coffee and muffin-like crap from the vending machine in the parking lot.

At least, when Dean puts in some very loud Motörhead in the Impala’s tape deck, they truly have a reason not to speak to one another.


	13. You Know Those Feelings…?

Sam wakes up to the sound of little feet running in his room, followed by a slight dip in his mattress. He had gone to bed late the previous night so he’s hoping that Beth would only want to go to sleep again and let him catch up on his own slumber.

_“No such luck,”_ he thinks when he hears the pages of a book being turned as she starts reading in a hushed voice. He recognizes the story as one of her favourites as of late, _Boo’s Dinosaur_ , mainly because Boo’s brother is named Sammy.

“Good morning, Beth,” he finally says, keeping his eyes closed.

“Good morning, Sammy,” she replies softly. She’s the only other person who can call him that and she knows how much of a privilege that is. “Dean and Cas are gone,” she then announces, a tinge of worry in her tone.

Sam opens his eyes, remembering he’s the only responsible adult in the house right now. The only human one anyway. He sits up, stretching his arms and yawning.

“Yeah! They had to go to Kansas City for… for some stuff. They’ll be back later today.”

He is hoping that this is not something she has seen happening. There’s no way he’s anywhere ready to explain what the guys had gone to do in Kansas City. Right now, he’d pass this conversation off to Jody without the slightest hesitation, even if it would warrant her the right to say she told him so.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says, her golden eyes all innocent and pure. Sam is worried.

“Of course, anything,” he answers, silently praying that it’s not what he’s been thinking of.

“I always knew I would be adopted by a hunter and an angel that loved each other. And I know it is Dean and Castiel. So how come they don’t—”

“Oh, sweetie… If only I knew,” Sam cuts her off, relieved by her actual question. “You’re absolutely right, Dean and Castiel are the hunter and the angel that love each other. But they don’t know it. And they are scared I think.”

“Love isn’t scary!”

“It can be. When you have lost every person you have ever loved, you might want to protect your heart. And Dean has lost a lot of people he’s loved.”

“You did too. But now you love Jody.”

The hunter laughs a little. Things with Jody are pretty much at a standstill for the moment, with them not seeing each other all that often, but the kid is right, he feels strongly for the sheriff and he can’t wait for her to get to the bunker later that day.

“Not everyone’s the same, sweetie. And the fact that Castiel is a man might be difficult for Dean to understand. He likes him, but he’s not sure why because he’s never liked a man before.”

“Why?”

“Because things were different before. Society didn’t like when men would love other men.”

“And women?”

“Same thing. But now, it’s much better. You see, Kay and Patty were happy together and they could have you and the other kids. It wouldn’t have been possible before.”

“Then you have to tell Dean that it’s okay to love Cas even if he’s a man.”

“He knows, I’m sure. But relationships are complicated.”

“Relationships are stupid,” Beth pouts.

“I agree…” Sam laughs, ruffling her hair. “So, you wanna finish reading me your story? Then we’ll go have breakfast, all right?”

“Okay. Pancakes?”

“If you keep eating pancakes, you’ll become a pancake. All round and fluffy!”

“Then I’ll ask Penny to turn me back into a girl when she has her powers again,” Beth grins before resuming on reading her book.

_“Yeah, that’s the perfect way to educate a child,”_ Sam can’t help to think. _“Do dumb stuff and then have the angels fix it for you.”_ But he’s not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. He’ll let the daddies have a whack at it instead.

~ ◊ ~

After breakfast, Beth is seated at one of the library’s tables and is doodling as if her life is depending on it, her tongue sticking out in sheer concentration. At the other table, the angel squad and Sam are going over the latest box of angel related notes the Men Of Letters had been keeping. Thankfully, it is well organised and it’s easy to find any work that may have been cross-referenced.

“Much of the information written here is nothing but misconceptions,” observes Ambriel, holding a thin black covered notebook.

“I have found many discrepancies as well,” offers Orifiel, pointing to his own book.

“Then how can we believe we will find anything useful if all we read is inaccurate?” Ambriel says again, annoyed.

“Brothers, please… It is to be expected that the knowledge gathered by humans about us would be speculative at best. Unless they had one of our kind to confirm their theories, that’s all they are, theories. Thankfully, we are well equipped to isolate the truth from the legends,” Penny tells them in her usual calming voice.

The only response from the three angels is a combined grumble, which has to make Sam smile a little. _“Who knew angels could be temperamental?”_ he has to think, only to change his mind right back. _“Oh, wait! Yeah, we knew that already.”_

“So, Penny,” Sam starts after clearing his throat. “What is it that you’re looking for exactly? We’ve almost skimmed the whole bunker and it doesn’t seem like we’ve found anything remotely useful.”

“I wish I knew, Sam,” she breathes, letting her shoulders slump a little. “It’s like anything pertaining to Heaven and its gates, metaphorical ones of course, has ceased to exist.”

“Could it be the case? Could Metatron have zapped everything about them out of existence?”

“Metatron may act as God, but he isn’t. We don’t know where our Father is, but He is out there somewhere. If we haven’t found the way, it might only be because we aren’t ready yet.”

Surprised by Penemue’s words, Sam looks at her, trying to see if she’s being serious or not. God had been gone for so long now, the fact that she’d still be gambling on the fact that He’d come and help was worrisome to him. Even Cas had stopped believing and he had still been an angel at the time.

“Okay. Then maybe it’s not here. Maybe someone else has what we need,” he only says, reluctant to debate with an angel on the existence of a God, or lack thereof.

“This is why I find so frustrating to have fallen in America. I was in Italy before, close enough to the Vatican. I know they have many more documents and I might have been able to find what we need there.”

“Well you said you were mostly stationed in Italy, right? Wouldn’t you still have contacts there? We could call and maybe have them do some research?”

“It’s no use, Sam. Can you imagine what might have happened to all the pious people in Italy, not to say the Vatican, when the Fall occurred?”

And it hits him. An enormous pool of believers, all ready to be inhabited by angels. Probably even praying for it.

“And you don’t think they’d want to go back home?” he tries.

“I thought so at first. We didn’t always cut ourselves off from the others, Sam. I did hear what happened to my brothers and sisters all over the world. Sadly, most of them have organized themselves in factions that will answer to Sandalphon. And those who can come to America for the Great Battle will do so. Some vessels have money so the angels can take planes, trains, and boats. Whatever will get them here.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that before?” Sam asks, equally worried and pissed off.

“Because there’s nothing you can do about it, can you? You certainly can’t prevent a war from happening. The only way would be to open the Heavens again, which is what we are trying to do.”

“None of you can do it.”

Beth is still seated in the same spot but she’s not colouring anymore. She’s looking at them with that odd too old stare of hers, clutching at a purple crayon hard enough she might just break it.

“There’s no book to help you regain Heaven. This was God’s spell. The problem is the solution,” she continues, before becoming a child once more and resuming her colouring.

All the angels at the table have stopped what they’re doing and are looking at her in awe. It’s not like they don’t know who or what she is, but they had never witnessed it until now. While the angel squad is stunned to silence, Sam gets up and goes to sit next to the girl.

“Beth? What did you mean the problem is the solution?”

“Dunno,” she shrugs. Then she turns and smiles at him. “All I felt is God, and how God is Love.”

While she continues with her drawing, Sam has to wonder if it really means what he thinks it does. Of course, when they were told the truth about the spell, Sam had had an idea, which was later confirmed by Cas himself. But does it mean that it has to do with the solution as well?

He’s not sure he’s liking where his thoughts are taking him. Because he knows that Cas’ grace had been a key ingredient. To even entertain the thought that his brother’s soul could be what they need to reverse the spell is right down sickening. And unlike an angel without his grace, a human being that’s soulless is not all cute and fluffy. Sam can certainly attest to that.

“So we’re doing all this for nothing?” spits Orifiel, snapping shut the book he’s been reading.

“It might just mean we’ll have to look for something else, Orifiel. Don’t be discouraged, I beg of you,” Penny answers, still looking at the child.

She turns her attention to Sam, squinting her eyes like she’s trying to read him. He is rather thankful that she can’t with her powers mostly down. Her head tilts a little to the side. She’s trying to understand something, which is making Sam nervous. It’s like he’s suddenly remembering that she’s an angel and that they’ve been fucked over by them on more than one occasion. She can’t know what he thinks about what Beth has just said.

“Sam, do you understand what the Oracle is saying? Do you know what she is referring to?” she ultimately asks him, her stare unfaltering.

“Nope! I’m just like you, not a clue.”

“You did seem to have a revelation just now, if your facial features were anything to go by.”

“I thought I did, but I was wrong,” Sam says, smiling to try and throw her off his scent.

“You might want to share with us. Who knows, it might help in our own research,” Penny insists. For the first time since he’s known her, her tone is dry and the words are clipped.

“I was thinking of that movie I saw a long time ago. Love Potion #9? But then, a love potion? That’s just stupid…” he answers in a lighter manner. “So Beth, wanna come and help me make some ham sandwiches? We could watch a movie while eating lunch, how about that?”

“Can I get chips? Please?”

“Of course, sweetie. We can even share a can of soda, would you like that?”

“Cas will _not_ be happy.”

“Then we won’t tell him, will we?” he whispers in a conspiring tone, picking the girl up so he can carry her to the kitchen.

Not that she can’t walk but right now, he feels the need to protect her more than ever.

~ ◊ ~

On the computer screen, Mike and Sully are right in the middle of the door chasing scene when Sam notices that Beth has fallen asleep next to him. After watching _Tangled_ , once again, they had decided to watch _Monsters, Inc._ instead of going back in the library.

Beth was tired of colouring and Sam, well, he didn’t feel like having Penemue’s inquiring stare on him. So they pretty much played hooky, staying in the bedroom eating sandwiches, with chips and soda, topping it all off with butterscotch pudding cups.

Even though the girl is sleeping, Sam decides to stay with her and at least finish watching the movie. He’s seen it before, more than once even, but he’s always had a soft spot for it. He refuses to say it’s because of the fact that the monsters in it are mostly nice and he’d love to live in _that_ universe for a change. No, he’s certainly not saying it.

When he hears the light knocking on the door, he tenses up. He’s more than ready to tell Penny or whoever’s on the other side to go back to the library and leave them alone. When the visitor speaks, Sam immediately relaxes.

“Hey Sam, are you sleeping?” Jody calls from the hall.

“No, but Beth is. Come in, Jody,” he answers, trying not to be too loud.

She comes in, closing the door delicately behind her. Jody is smiling as she walks towards the bed to come and kiss him softly on the lips.

“That’s right, we do that now,” Sam mutters around a goofy smile.

“I must be a bad kisser if you already forgot about the last time we saw each other,” she whispers back, crouching next to the bed.

“You might need to practice a little,” he says, stealing another kiss from her, this one with a bit more intent.

“Yeah well, not with the kid in the room, mister,” she chides him, getting up. “I dropped my bag in your room, is that all right?”

“Of course. I’ll just close this here and we’ll go back there, I got stuff to tell you. Who let you in, by the way?”

“Ambriel. Did something happen? They all look a bit weirded out.”

“Yeah! I’ll tell you about it. Want something to drink?”

“I’d have a beer.”

“All right. I’ll take these plates to the kitchen and bring back some. Meet you in my room in a few.”

Sam picks up everything that needs to be and marches down to the kitchen, hoping he won’t run in any of the angels. He doesn’t have to go through the library so it shouldn’t be a problem. But of course, as a Winchester, he hardly ever gets what he wishes for as Penemue is seated in the kitchen, a warm cup of tea in front of her.

“Since when do you drink tea?” he asks, putting the dirty plates in the sink before dropping the food wrappings in the trash.

“I don’t, but Augusta appreciates it. Especially when we are having these talks.”

“Talks?”

“To an outsider it might look like I am meditating but in truth, I am conversing with my vessel. She has often helped me understand human behaviour over the years,” Penny explains before blowing on her tea and taking a sip.

“Oh! I guess that’s good then. So what, you’re like… friends?”

“Something like that. She was helping me just now trying to understand you.”

“Me?” Sam asks, uneasy, grabbing his and Jody’s beers from the fridge.

“She thinks she knows what you were thinking earlier. You see, her observation skills are quite shrewd and she believes she has come to the same conclusion you might have.”

“What about? That movie I told you about? Told you, it was a silly thought.”

“Of course not, that was merely a diversion on your part. She is insistent that your brother and Castiel are in love with one another. Even though neither of them seems to either be aware of it, or willing to make their sentiment known.”

“And even so…?”

“When I told you before that Castiel’s grace was the only one that could work for Metatron’s spell, you also had that concentrated look about you. Same as you had earlier today. So it had to be because he was in love with a human, wasn’t it? Your brother, most specifically.”

“You of all people should know that angels can’t love. Not this way anyway.”

“And yet, Castiel loved. It is the only logical explanation. That angel never was like the others. He was always special, favoured by God.”

“Yeah well, he’s probably the only nice one we’ve ever encountered,” Sam can’t stop himself to say.

Penemue’s stare becomes darker, but only for half a second. Quickly enough, her features are peaceful again and she’s smiling as if Sam just hadn’t insulted her entire species.

“I understand why you feel that way. You boys have been mistreated by a good number of my brothers and sisters, and I certainly can’t blame you for doubting any of us. Especially now with the conclusion you must have come to.”

“Which is?”

“If indeed Dean and Castiel love each other, and Castiel’s grace closed the door, would it mean that Dean’s soul could open it up again?”

“So I guess you can see, if indeed that was my conclusion, how it will never happen, right?” Sam just says before leaving the kitchen.

“Fuck,” he grumbles when he opens the door to his room.

“I didn’t think finding me half naked on your bed would have such an effect on you.”

Looking at his bed, Sam sees that indeed Jody is sitting with her back against the headboard only wearing small striped boxer shorts and a matching camisole.

Okay, that’s another thing they can do now and he’s _very_ glad his brain is able to make the immediate switch from enraged to aroused. They certainly can talk later.

~ ◊ ~

They’re both laying naked on the bed, huddled together, their breaths back to a normal rhythm. It had been a short but intense session. Sam would love to start again but he also appreciates the stillness of the moment, his fingers gently grazing at Jody’s scalp. That’s something new; he’s never had a girlfriend with such short hair. Not that he minds at all, but it certainly is different.

He smiles at the thought of Dean who’ll probably love commenting on how Sam is the one with the girly hair in the relationship. He can’t wait for his brother to get with Cas so he can reciprocate with every sissy joke in the book. Not that he’s a homophobe, far from it, but his brother would certainly deserve a taste of his own medicine.

“What’s so funny?” Jody mumbles, her mouth pressed against his chest.

“I’m thinking how Dean will love the fact that I’ve got longer hair than you do. Like, I’m the girl and all that stuff.”

“Like he’s one to talk,” she huffs before bringing her body closer to his.

“Speaking of which… A lot of stuff happened today. Like, a lot! This morning, Beth basically asked why Cas and Dean are not together.”

“See? Even the kid knows it. What did you say?”

“Well, she says that she’s always known she’d live with the hunter and the angel that loved each other. Then wondered why they didn’t because she knew her visions were about them. So I had to tell her that relationships were complicated, especially when it’s people that have been hurt.”

“You’ve been hurt,” comments Jody, gently travelling her fingers all over his torso.

“She said that too,” he smiles before kissing the top of her head. “I might have said something about finding difficult to fall in love with someone you never expected to. Like a man falling in love with another man.”

“You didn’t…”

“Well, yeah! I did explain that before, society was a bit different, but that nowadays it was a little better. She had been able to have her two foster mothers, and they had been able to have her. But for some it was still a bit difficult.”

“Sam, she’s six years old.”

“So? She seemed to understand just fine. Anyway, I hope she did.”

“So that’s it? That’s your big day?”

“No, that was just this morning. Then the Oracle spoke to the angels. Told them they wouldn’t be able to open Heaven. Or, told _us_ , I’m not sure but I was in the room so—”

“That explains the mood when I came in.”

“Yeah… The Oracle said it was God’s doing, and how God was love and the problem is the solution.”

“Again, I understand the gloom.”

“Well, it kinda made things a bit clearer for me. I had already figured that the fact it had to be Cas’ grace was because he was in love. Who else but Dean, right?”

“Right…” Jody confirms, unsure of where this is going.

“And, well, he pretty much confirmed it to me the other day. But anyway, the spell Metatron performed used the soul of an angel in love with a human, who we know was Cas. Then, what if the way to reverse it would be to use the soul of a human in love with an angel. Dean—”

“But… Castiel’s not an angel anymore, is he?” Jody asks.

“Oh my God! You’re right! So even if Dean’s in love with Cas, it won’t matter because Cas is human now, right?”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, but it might not matter if he was in love while Cas was still an angel. Or maybe it doesn’t matter because it’s Cas so as long as Dean loves him, it’d work. Or it’d work because it’s Dean who Cas loved. But then how does it have to happen? Does he have to say it? Pretty sure Cas never said it. Do they have to have sex? And what if sex was the answer? No, that can’t be it…”

The words are now tumbling rapidly from Sam’s mouth; he’s overwhelmed, unable to focus on a single idea. Probably because they’re all leading to the same gruesome fate: Dean’s soul is the key. And now that Penemue knows about it, or at least strongly suspects it, Sam is starting to consider kicking the angel squad right out of the bunker.

There’s no way they would choose to let Dean keep his soul, or even live, if it meant they’d never be able to get back home again. Sam might have been fine with helping them at first, but now that his brother seems to be part of the solution, he’s not willing to take any chances.

“Sam?” calls Beth from the hall before starting to open the door while knocking on it.

With a yelp, Jody grabs the blanket from the floor and just has time to drape it over herself and Sam, hiding their nakedness from the child’s eyes.

“Hi Jody,” she squeals, running to her side of the bed before either of them can say anything against it.

“Hey Beth, remember what we said about knocking?” Sam said sternly.

“I knocked.”

“I know, sweetie, but you were already opening the door. What you’re supposed to do is knock and wait for the people inside to confirm you can come in.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

“No, but we could have been… hmm… kissing,” tries to explain Sam, slightly flushed.

“I don’t mind,” she smiles, starting to climb on the bed.

“Whoa there, little lady,” Jody finally intervenes, no longer amused by Sam’s inexperienced parenting. “First of all, I would love it if you gave us a minute to put some clothes on. Because yes, we are naked,” she specifies when Beth starts giggling. “Only then you can come back in and jump on the bed all you want, all right? But right now, I’d rather not have a kid in the bed while our kibbles and bits are hanging out. Understood?”

“Yes, Jody. Sorry,” the girl says, going back outside the room and closing the door. “Okay, I am out now,” she says loudly from the hall.

“Thank you, sweetheart. We’ll tell you when you can come back in,” Jody answers back before getting rewarded with a kiss from Sam.

“That was some quality mom work.”

“Don’t be afraid to be firm with her. She won’t hate you for it, I promise. She might sulk at times but kids do that. She needs boundaries, you know?”

“I know… I should be able to handle her next time.”

“Well, if I did anything right, there shouldn’t be a next time,” she winks, kissing him before getting off the bed to find her clothes.

“Are you done?” they hear Beth yell.

“We’ll tell you, sweetie. Almost done,” Sam yells back.

“Okay!”

“We could teach her about patience and let her stay in the hall a little more, you know,” Jody says when she’s dressed again, grabbing his butt.

“Yeah! I might not have your experience, but even I know that’d be a shitty trick,” taking her hand off him but still laughing at the thought.

“Bravo! One point for you. That was a test. What do you take me for, Sam Winchester?”

“For an extremely sexy, and horny, woman in her sexual prime,” Sam growls before grabbing her by the waist and sucking at her neck.

“Ooh… How much would I give to fuck the eighteen-year-old version of you,” she breathes, her hand carded in his hair.

“I’m thinking I should start to call you Mrs. Robinson,” he mumbles, his mouth still on her neck.

“Don’t you ever dare,” she roars, grabbing a lock of his hair and pulling on it.

“Okay, ow! Ow! Fine! I won’t,” he screams and laughs at the same time.

“Are you ready now?” they hear Beth call again from the other side of the door.

“Shit! I was totally forgetting about her,” whispers Sam, sitting on the bed and putting a pillow on his lap. He might need it for a couple of minutes.

“Come on in, Beth, we’re good now,” Jody announces, walking to the bed to sit next to Sam.

“You were kissing just now, weren’t you?” she asks, giggling again.

“You’re right, we were,” Jody confirms with a smirk.

“You can still kiss, I don’t mind. My mamas used to do it all the time,” she says before grief clouds her features. “They loved each other very much, you know?” she adds with a sad smile. “I wish they could be in Heaven right now.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Jody says with a frown.

“Penny says that Heaven is closed, so when you die you can’t go anymore.”

“We don’t know that, sweetie. We know the angels can’t go to Heaven but nothing says it’s the same for the good people who die,” Sam tries to reassure her but he knows he’s anything but convincing.

“Penny said so. And I saw it too in my head. They’re afraid you know, the dead people. But at least Mama Kay and Mama Patty are together, right?”

“They most certainly are, sweetheart,” Jody can only say while Sam is trying to calm himself down.

Penemue shouldn’t say such things to a kid, even if said kid is harbouring an age-old Oracle. Beth is still just a child most of the time. He’s even more convinced now that having her and her crew in the bunker is less of the advantage he originally thought it would be. All he’s been seeing today are downsides and he’s starting to fear for the well being of his niece.

His niece…

Okay, that’s kind of new. He loves her, he knows that, but it’s the first time he thinks of her as his niece with all his heart like he just did. It settles her role in his life more than any paper or any magic could ever have done. At his core, he feels connected to her. She’s his family, and if there’s something he knows by now is how family certainly doesn’t end with blood.

“Are you all right, Sam?” Jody asks him when she sees he’s looking at Beth, his eyes shining and a smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, of course! I just realised something, that’s all,” he answers, opening his arms so Beth could come to him, which she quickly does.

He lifts her so she can sit on his lap and just hugs her tight, loving how her little arms snake around his torso and how she hardly can get her hands together on his back. Which makes it the most marvellous of all hugs, in his own opinion. He breathes her in, for the first time really focusing on her smell, connecting with this child on a whole new level.

“I love you, Sammy,” Beth breathes in his chest, making her words close to inaudible. But Sam hears them.

“And I love you, Beth. With all my heart,” he replies, not much louder than she had.

He knows at some point he should let her go, but he doesn’t want to. There’s something calming about her, grounding. She might only be a kid, but he’s starting to think she’s the best thing to have ever happened to this curse of a family. For her he would leave everything, he would stop hunting. He would go back to school and make sure she had the brightest of futures.

The thought of his own life, his past and his apparent lack of future, it all sends a shiver through his whole body and he can’t stop the tears that start flowing. He’d be tempted to hug Beth even tighter but he’s still sentient enough to know he’s way too strong for her fragile body. As if she sensed his need, she hugs him even tighter and murmurs in his chest some more.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” she says, and he knows it to be true.


	14. …They’re Unravelling!

The first thirty minutes after Cas and Dean came back to the bunker is somewhat joyful. Of course it is; there’s a six-year-old kid jumping around, distributing hugs and kisses and wanting to know _everything_ about their trip to Kansas City. Well, that might be when things start turning sour again.

Nobody’s going to tell the kid where they went and why they did. But Castiel, as Dean is now discovering, seems to have learned a thing or two from his ol’ buddy Jesus on how to try and send a message through a narrative. Except Dean doesn’t feel like he should be taught any lessons. Especially not by some dude who was still a virgin less than twenty-four hours ago.

“You see Beth, Dean and I needed to go see some people because I had this problem. Nothing bad, but it wasn’t something I thought anyone could help me with. Not anyone I knew anyway,” Castiel starts, artfully evading everyone’s eyes but Beth’s.

“What problem did you have, Cas?” asks Beth, already enthralled by Castiel’s story.

“Yeah Cas, what _problem_ did you have?” mocks Dean, angry only because Cas apparently still is.

“I had this ball of yarn and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it,” Castiel answers Beth, not paying attention to Dean or to the choked laugh he lets out. “I didn’t know if I wanted to knit or crochet, since I had never done any of them.”

“I think they’re both nice,” Beth only offers with a shrug.

“Indeed, they are. But then, I didn’t know anybody who would have wanted to show me how to do either of those things.”

“I know how to crochet, Mama Patty showed me that one time,” Beth says with a huge smile.

Once again, Castiel tries not to pay attention to the sniggers in the room. Because of course, every adult knows what he’s talking about which is a bit of a problem for the end of his story. But at this point, he’s still too mad to care. Sam and Jody can understand what they very well want, as long as Dean gets the message.

“I didn’t know that, Beth. Had I known I would have come to you,” he decides to say, which seems to be the right answer.

“Then what happened?”

“Well, we went to a school where they teach how to knit and crochet. And since I didn’t know which one I preferred, I took both courses.”

“You did?”

“I did…”

“Which did you like best?”

“I enjoyed both of them and I think both have their advantages. I guess it mostly depends on what you want in the end,” Cas answers, risking a glance at Dean who’s not even looking at him anymore.

“Like a scarf?”

“Like a scarf,” he confirms. “But I learned there might have been someone to teach me how to knit all along. Then I realised he simply _didn’t want_ to teach me,” Castiel continues, his tone having suddenly turned acidic.

“Or maybe someone just had to at least take a beginner’s course to see if they actually liked to knit. Ever think about that?” Dean spits, getting up from his chair.

But before he leaves the kitchen, he goes to lean his chest over Castiel’s back, his arms on either side of him, both his hands resting flat on the table. Dean’s breath is warm, his lips brushing against the shell of the former angel’s ear when he finally speaks.

“And thanks for shutting the hell up, asshole,” he growls before pushing himself off the ex-angel to leave the room.

Castiel, still trembling from both the proximity and the words, finally can exhale. Sam and Jody are sitting in front of him but any amusement they could have been feeling until now is gone. Both their expressions are pretty closed off but in Sam’s eyes there’s a bit of a lingering shock.

Save for Beth, the story had been about anything but knitting, crocheting, and yarn, so of course Sam knows what it’s been about. And frankly, he would have preferred not to know and he’s resenting Cas a bit for telling them. Even though he thinks he was being subtle, Castiel so stupid to think it was complex enough for anyone else but Dean to get the point.

“Jody, you think you could take Beth to her room please? I’d like to speak to Cas for a minute,” Sam says after a while.

“I’m not tired,” whines the girl.

“Of course you’re not, it’s way too early,” Jody confirms. “But I think that Sam and Cas need to have some guy time right now. Let’s go have some girl time of our own, all right?” She wiggles her eyebrows in response to entice the young girl.

“Okay! Is it about Dean and how he’s mad at Cas?”

“Maybe sweetheart, but I don’t think…” they hear Jody explain only to lose the rest of her words once they get too far down the hall.

“I think you should apologize to Dean,” Sam says.

“I will do no such thing,” Castiel spits, glaring at the hunter.

“Look, I don’t know what happened… well, I kinda know, but clearly he didn’t want you to tell us. Only for that, you owe him an apology.”

“Sam, you know how I feel about your brother,” he hisses, unwilling to say the words again or to speak too loud. “When we were there, I explained to him I should experience the touch of a man as well as a woman. And of course I didn’t expect him to offer himself. Not with what I know of him. But then he goes off with a male prostitute? Am I so repulsive to him?”

Sam groans and he doesn’t want to have to do this. Not now, and not ever.

“Cas, did you even hear what Dean said? It has nothing to do with being repulsive or not. Pretty sure it has to do with not being sure he could even be with a guy to begin with. He was not going to help you experience something he knew nothing about, was he?”

“Why not? There’s no difference!”

Sam has to chuckle at his friend’s words. Actually, he would like to laugh out loud but it’s like he can’t muster the energy to do so. Instead, he shakes his head and tries to find the best way to explain his thoughts.

“Look… maybe there’s no difference for you, but for most people, there is one. Take me; I know from experience that I prefer women, by a whole lot. It’s just the way it is. And as far as I know, Dean has only ever liked women. Even though I’ve always had a doubt, but that’s irrelevant now.”

The hunter can see that the former angel is listening to him but clearly, nothing he’s saying seems to be making any sense. How he came up with the knitting vs. crochet analogy is beyond him. Maybe analogies are what he understands.

“Some people like coffee, some people like tea, some people like both,” he tries.

“I like both… and Dean hates tea,” Cas murmurs, lost in thought.

“That’s what I mean. Not everybody likes the same things, and that’s all right.”

“I get it. So it’s like Dean only ever had coffee, then tasted tea, only to realise he hated it, is that it?”

“Well, if we were really talking about tea, I guess that’s what it would be but we’re not talking about tea. And we don’t know if he liked knitting or not… Sex with a guy, Cas,” he regretfully has to specify, seeing his friend’s blank stare. “You’re the one who came up with that analogy, not me.”

“I didn’t know what else to tell Beth.”

“Yeah well, next time, just say that you had to go do surveillance or something. Enough with the parables, all right? Now, about Dean—”

“I will apologize for my indiscretion. But he needs to apologize to me too.”

“Why is that?”

“I was right there, Sam. I had to choose to share myself with someone who I didn’t have an ounce of sympathy for when he was right there with me.”

“Did you even tell him you liked him? What if he likes you and you’ve been there, flaunting the fact that you wanted some guy prostitute without even asking him first?”

“But—” Castiel looks at his friend, suddenly mortified. “He can’t—”

“Well, he just might because he apparently tried to find out if he could be with a guy. I don’t think he would have done that just for kicks.”

“But I was _right there_!”

“That’s what happens when people don’t talk to one another. I’ve seen you guys circle around each other for years and I always promised myself I wouldn’t get involved.”

“Why are you now?”

“Because even your kid doesn’t understand why her fathers aren’t sharing a life together even though they’re clearly in love.”

~ ◊ ~

Castiel needs a bit of solitude, which is amusing because it’s not something he’s ever had or craved. But being cut-off from the Heavenly Host and becoming human has shifted his perspectives a bit. As an angel, even though he pretty much carried every other angel with him at all times, he could still choose to ignore them, tune them out.

Now humans are different. To effectively avoid them, the only way is to remove oneself from their presence. And right now he is in dire need of isolation. Everything is too loud, too bright, even the angel squad’s constant susurrus has become irritating to no end.

Of course, he could go to his room but even though it is his own, people still think they can come and knock on his door, expecting him to answer. And if he doesn’t, they barge in, thinking something might be wrong. He can’t just be wishing to be left in peace because that’s not what angels do. Everybody forgets he’s not an angel anymore.

The garage is Dean’s kingdom, so that’s not even an option. So he goes to the only place nobody ever goes without a purpose: the dungeon. Or torture room. Or whatever clever name Dean would have come up with last. But for Cas, it’ll always be the dungeon.

Of course, he’d wish for at least one comfortable seat in this place but it’s not like it is made to have a good time. So he just sits in the entrapment chair and closes his eyes, having made sure to close the doors. He wishes nobody will come looking for him. All he wants is some peace and quiet. If only for a little hour.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he’s awoken by someone opening the doors to the dungeon and turning on the lights.

“For Christ’s sake, Cas! You gotta tell somebody if you plan on disappearing like that,” Dean yells at him before turning away to leave.

“Dean, wait,” Castiel calls to him, his voice rough with sleep. He is half surprised to see the man come back.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Cas says lowly, hoping they can put it all behind them.

“For what? Telling everyone my business or making me worry about you for hours?”

“Hum… both I guess… what do you mean—”

“I went to your room to talk and you weren’t there. Nobody knew where you were. I thought you were gone, man!”

“I wouldn’t leave, Dean. I told you this much.”

“Well, that’s not what you told Sam now, did you? But I figured since Beth was still here, you must not have gone far,” Dean concludes, his shoulders slumped. “So you plan on leaving with Beth when this is all done?”

“It’s not a plan. It’s a thought, mostly. You’re a hunter, Dean… a fighter. Much more than I am, I realize that now.”

“So what, you’ll take the kid and leave and it’s fuck you, Winchester?”

“No, of course not. But Beth can’t live like this. You said so yourself. This is no life for a child.”

Dean comes in the room and gets closer to the chair Castiel is still sitting in.

“Your ideas of leaving… do they have anything to do with me?” Dean asks, making sure that he has his friend’s undivided attention.

“They might…”

“Do you understand what I did back there?”

Dean’s voice his husky. Castiel swallows loudly.

“Sam says you might have wanted to try something you hadn’t tried before.”

“He’s right. I hate it, but he’s right. Do you wanna know what happened?” Dean says, coming a little closer, enough so his knees would brush against Castiel’s.

“You don’t have to. It’s none of my business.”

“Oh, but it is,” purrs Dean, pushing himself forward to stand between Castiel’s now spread legs.

He gets down on his knees, his hands grasping Castiel’s thighs firmly. Looking at the former angel through his lashes, the hunter licks his lips and grazes his nails over the denim-covered legs.

“He showed me many things Cas, so many wonderful things. Things I could do to you. Things I _want_ to do to you.”

Dean’s fingers are now taking care of Castiel’s jean’s button and zipper. But he’s torturously slow. Same thing when he dips a hand inside the pants to gently grope his dick through his boxers. He’s too gentle; Cas has to buck up to get a relatively nice friction.

“Let me take care of you, Cas. I told you, he showed me extraordinary things,” Dean soothes him before mouthing his clothed erection.

Castiel moans and bucks his hips up again, needing more of Dean’s touch, would it be his hand or his mouth. He doesn’t care, he just wants more. Soon enough, he’s got both hands buried in Dean’s short hair while the hunter is making his boxers and dick wet with his spit.

When Dean has had enough of tasting fabric, he manhandles him to yank the pants and offending cotton boxers off before taking his shaft down his throat, twirling his tongue, humming. He’s just as good as the hookers in Kansas City and yet, it’s even better because it’s _him_.

“Cas,” Dean says.

“Dean…” Cas sighs back.

“Cas,” Dean says again, louder.

“Hmmm… Dean,” he moans, not even wondering how Dean can talk and suck his dick so gloriously at the same time.

“Cas! Wake the fuck up,” Dean yells, shaking him awake.

The dream had been so vivid, so hot, that Dean’s voice and his hand on him make good on finishing Castiel off and he comes right then and there, his shoulder in the hunter’s grasp. Except that instead of letting him go, Dean’s grip gets tighter, if only for a second. He quickly lets him go and walks back from the chair, a confused look on his face.

“Cas, man… huh… we didn’t know where you were. I’ll go—” Dean says, quickly turning to leave.

“Dean, wait,” Castiel calls to him, prompting a strong case of déjà-vu.

“Yeah?” the other man says, keeping his back turned.

“I’m sorry I told everyone about… you know.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay… And I’m sorry for… this.”

“Not your fault. Can’t control dreams, man. I startled you so, you know, _I’m_ sorry,” Dean sputters before leaving.

~ ◊ ~

The next morning, the atmosphere in the bunker is cold and heavy. So much that even the angels seem to be sensitive to it, making even less noise than they usually do. Dean and Castiel apparently can’t even stand to be in the same room together.

And Sam, if he’s worried, he’s mostly tired of their stubbornness. He has major information he needs to share with the both of them and they need to get their shit together. At this point he doesn’t care if they need to fuck it out or beat each other up. But Sam being Sam, he thinks they mostly need to have a nice long heart to heart.

That’s how he gets an idea, which will certainly not fly well with either of them. But he has to try. He looks at Jody sipping her coffee next to him.

“Hey Jody? Would you mind taking care of Beth for a couple of hours? I need to have a chat with the guys and it can’t be done here.”

“I don’t mind, but why not here?”

“Frankly, I think a public place might help avoid any chance of a blow-out. Or either of them walking out to hide in their room.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Well, you know what I think is happening. Can you imagine how that conversation might go?”

“Yeah, I see… You’re sure you don’t want me to go?”

“Beth has to stay here and I’m not leaving her with _them_ ,” he says, referring for the first time to the angels in a less than friendly way.

“All right. We’ll stay here. But be careful, okay? And check with Beth before you guys go.”

“We will,” he promises before kissing her.

He gets up to go find his brother first, who’s still in his room. He had come out to grab a cup of coffee earlier but had immediately retreated to hide. When he gets to the door, he knocks and waits, hoping the man hasn’t fallen asleep again.

“What?” Dean calls out after a minute, audibly annoyed.

“Dean, I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“If it’s about Cas, don’t bother!”

“It’s not… not really! But it’s important.”

Instead of telling him he can come in, Dean comes to open the door, just enough so they can see each other while they talk.

“Have at it,” Dean orders him gruffly.

“Not here. Stuff happened while you guys were gone and I need to talk to you, but it can’t be here,” Sam says, keeping his voice down.

“What? Is everyone okay?” Dean hurries him, opening the door in full as if forgetting he’s been sort of hiding.

“No! We’re all okay but there’s been some… developments! The angels don’t know about it and I don’t want them to.”

Sam’s explanation seems to be enough to convince Dean that he’s serious. If he’s keeping things from the angels he’s been helping this whole time, it has to be important.

“All right, let’s go. I’m starving anyway.”

“Yeah, and Cas has to come with.”

“No, someone has to stay with Beth.”

“I already asked Jody, she’ll handle Beth. This concerns you both.”

“Did you check with Beth if it was safe to leave?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll go. Just go get Cas. And if he’s not in his room, check the dungeon.”

~ ◊ ~

Once again, even though it’s a nice warm day, there’s that chill in the air and it’s not because of any over-active ventilation device. The three hunters are seated at a table in an almost empty diner in Smith Center. Both Dean and Cas would have preferred not to be back there again but Lebanon doesn’t have a single restaurant and this is the closest place they could go.

Plus, their burgers are not half bad. Not as good as Dean’s, if he can say so himself, but they’re still better than any fast food chain they could have chosen instead. The three men are sitting in silence, and it’s not a comfortable one. Each is looking at their own menu, even though they all decided a while ago what they’d be having.

When the waitress comes to take their orders, she grabs back the menus and they have to stop ignoring each other. Thankfully, they have water on the table, which is another nice way to avoid speaking. Not so easy to talk when you’re downing your third glass in fifteen minutes. If they’re lucky enough, they’ll have to go hide in the bathroom soon enough.

“Okay guys, this is ridiculous,” finally says Sam, throwing his arms in the air. “You gotta say something.”

“Sam, you’re the one who said you had stuff to tell us. So just tell us already,” Dean replies.

“Well if you guys were at least talking to each other, it’d make things a lot easier.”

“Look, it’ll get better all right? Just… tell us your thing.”

Sam looks at his brother and friend and he decides he’ll tell them, but he won’t be nice about it. They are being utterly ridiculous and he’s fed up.

“All right. That spell Metatron did? It had to be Cas.”

“Yeah, you told us that.”

“Never occurred to you as to why that would be?”

“I dunno man! What the hell do I know about angel crap?”

“How about you, Cas? Any idea?” Sam asks their friend, finding his quietness unnerving.

“I can’t be sure,” the former angel replies in a low voice.

And that’s when it hits Sam. Castiel knows.

“How long, Cas? How long have you known this?”

“Known what?” asks Dean, confused.

“How. Long,” Sam insists.

“Probably forever.” Castiel’s voice is even lower now, and he can’t look at his friends.

“What the fuck did he know?” almost yells Dean, only keeping it down because of the public setting.

“Should I tell him or will you?” asks Sam, ignoring his brother.

Castiel’s response comes as a hard glare and a shake of his head.

“We have to, Cas. It puts us all in danger if this gets out.”

“Okay, now I’m pissed off. I don’t care who tells me what, but someone better speak real soon,” Dean growls.

When Castiel’s shoulders slump, Sam has to take pity on him a little, but he can’t wait any longer. He takes a deep breath and looks at his brother.

“Dean, just calm down. I’ll explain everything but don’t panic, all right?”

“Why would I fucking panic, it’s not like—”

“Shut up, Dean! Listen, the spell was a nephilim, which is the product of love between human and angel,” Sam starts in nothing more than a whisper, extending a first finger. “Then it was Cupid’s bow, which I shouldn’t have to explain to you,” he continues, extending a second finger. “Then Metatron needed Castiel’s grace. Not any other angel’s but Cas’. What does that tell you?”

“I don’t know. His grace had extra mojo?”

“He was an angel in love, Dean,” Sam informs him, keeping his voice as low as possible.

Dean turns to Castiel who’s looking at the Formica tabletop. “That’s impossible. Anna said—”

“I know what she said, and that’s why it could only be him. Cas was the one angel who could                                         love.”

Silence has fallen on the table again, still heavy but in a different way. It’s a relief when their meal is served. They at least have an excuse to not be talking, even though for Dean food in his mouth hasn’t always been enough of a reason not to speak.

But Sam, even though he’d love to see the both of them kiss and make up – well, not literally, he doesn’t _want_ to see them kiss – he has even more information for them. So he decides he’d better share all he can while they’re busy munching on their grease patties. He swallows his mouthful of cobb salad before talking again.

“So that brings me to our main problem. The key to open Heaven back up again. You see, if Cas’ grace was what shut it all down, I don’t think it’s too far fetched to think Dean’s soul could be what’s needed for the angels to go back home.”

Sam ignores the gasps and sputters and just raises his hand to signify they should just listen. Which they seem willing to do.

“Of course, it’s only speculation but if the angels ever come to that same conclusion, I think that Dean’s in danger. I’ve been willing to help them but I’m pretty sure they’d use Dean’s soul without any remorse. Would they kill him or just extract it, I don’t know and I certainly don’t care. All I know is that I don’t believe they should stay in the bunker any longer.”

The hunter takes another bite of his salad, satisfied to have finally said what he felt needed to be said.

“Do they have a counter spell which requires Dean’s soul?” asks Castiel after a little while.

Sam only shrugs, then shakes his head. He’s pretty sure they don’t.

“Why would it have to be me?” Dean asks. Not that he doesn’t suspect why, but he figures he might have to hear it to even start believing it.

Once more, Sam only shrugs, concentrating on picking the perfect bite of salad on his fork. He feels like he’s done enough already to help them both realise how much in love with each other they are.

“Is everything okay here?” they hear the waitress ask.

“Perfect, thank you,” Dean answers without looking at her.

“I’m glad you think so, Dean,” she answers back, her eyes turning black before producing a kitchen knife and trying to stab the hand he has resting on the table.

Luckily she misses, but not by much, still able to cut his forearm with the blade. All three men stand up immediately, Dean and Castiel taking out their angel blades while Sam grabs Ruby’s knife.

Seems the girl isn’t the only possessed one because the cook charges out of the kitchen with a meat cleaver, followed by some young guy carrying a knife that looks just as tall as he does.

Quickly enough, Dean plunges his blade in the girl and her insides glow and crackle before she drops dead on the floor. Sam and Cas are handling the kitchen staff when the bell over the front door starts rattling like crazy.

When Dean turns around, he sees people pouring into the diner: men, women, some hardly looking to be fully out of puberty, all sporting black eyes and various weapons. Some are legit, like blades and guns, but there’s also the occasional pipe wrench and even a whip. _“A whip, really?”_ thinks Dean before ducking away from the rancher who’s trying to get him with said whip.

The guys are battling the demons fiercely. At some point, Cas tries to exorcise the demons all at once but his attempt is cut short when he gets shot in the shoulder and stabbed in the opposite arm. In excruciating pain, he’s still trying to complete the prayer but he soon has to admit the two hunters stabbing the demons is much more effective.

At some point, Dean gets stabbed as well but in the gut, which makes him double over. His stabbed arm is still more useful than his shot one, so Cas grabs his blade again and charges in. He’s able to kill two of the three demons that are surrounding Dean, while his friend is taking care of his own assailant.

They quickly run to help Sam who’s in pretty bad shape too. “We have to go,” hisses Dean.

“We’re stuck here, Dean,” replies Castiel before stabbing a young girl, swallowing down the lunch that’s threatening to come back up. He’s feeling sick.

“There’s no more coming in,” Sam says, wielding his knife expertly. “We can do this!”

They stop talking and just continue stabbing anything they see, sustaining their own injuries and battling through them. There’s blood everywhere and they often lose their balance because the floors are slippery with the red goo.

When there’s only two demons left standing and they see the three hunters covered in blood coming at them, they apparently decide they’ve had enough and smoke out of their meat suits. They leave behind a horrified middle-aged man and a teenage girl who starts shaking and crying.

That’s when Dean sees her, standing outside the diner with her hands on her hips. She’s wearing some kind of leather catsuit as if she’s a goddamn superhero, her fiery hair softly fluttering in the wind. Abaddon!

Of course she knows he’s seen her, she must have counted on it. She looks back at him with that red painted smirk of hers. Before Dean can even muster the thought of running outside, she disappears into thin air. It leaves the hunter to blink a few times because no matter how often it happens, people vanishing is not something you ever get used to.

All the energy that’s been sustaining the hunter leaves him as he falls on the floor, his legs unable to support him anymore. He just needs a little break, just a couple of minutes to breathe. Yet he knows they can’t stay here, sitting in the middle of such a massacre. The cops will get here soon enough and they will be brought in and accused of mass murder.

Which would be about right, they did kill everyone here after all. The fact that the people they killed had been possessed by demons at the time would certainly not be a factor if they were to get caught.

“Sam, Cas, we gotta go,” he croaks while getting up, his hand clutching at the oozing wound on his abdomen. “Who’s best in shape to drive?” he asks, pretty sure he himself is not.

“Both my arms are compromised… I can’t drive,” Castiel answers, his breath hitching from the pain.

“I should be okay. Got shot in the leg but it’s not so bad,” Sam offers back.

“Great! Let’s go, cops will be here soon.”

Even though two witnesses have survived, none of them are that much worried they would be telling anyone about their involvement, seeing as they were themselves the unwilling attackers. Still, Dean tells them they should leave and not come back, otherwise this would all be pinned on them. Both are running in opposite directions when the three men get in the Impala and start the drive back to Lebanon.

Dean took a tarp from the trunk to lay on the back seat for Cas. With both his arms wounded, it would be difficult to try and not put blood everywhere. Dean was at least able to take off his own overshirt and bunch it up over his wound. Sam did the same with his own shirt, wrapping it over the wound on his leg. So the damage to the Impala will be minimal, which gives Dean something nice to think about.

“I thought you had spoken to Beth, Dean,” Cas says, his tone an accusing one.

“Yeah! And then I thought it’d be nice if we’d get attacked. Didn’t you have a blast?” Dean scoffs back. “What do you think, Cas? She said we were in the clear.”

“What did she say exactly?” Castiel insists, only to hear Dean exhale loudly.

“Cas, leave it be, all right? We’ll talk to Beth when we get home,” Sam chides him, hoping the drive back could be somewhat peaceful.

The ex-angel seems to be getting the message and slumps back on his seat, only to let out a faint lament because of the pain. He had sort of forgotten about his injuries for a second and is now being reminded of them quite vividly. Another huff comes from the passenger seat.

“We’ll be home soon, buddy. Hang tight,” Dean says, his inflection the warmest it’s been all day.

_“Maybe there’s some hope after all,”_ Sam can’t help but think with a relieved smile.


	15. When Our Motives Collide

In the bunker’s library, the angels are going through the last box of documents the Men Of Letters accumulated about their kind. Once this was done with, they’d be back to square one, with nothing left to help them on their quest.

Penemue turns around to take a look at Jody who’s sitting in one of the armchairs with Beth on her lap. They’ve been quietly reading fairytales since the hunters left, not once trying to interact with the angels. Still, she’s pretty sure that if she started talking about what she wants to talk about, the woman would start listening in.

This can’t happen, so she decides to address her brothers in Enochian. It is their original language after all.

“Brothers, there is something we need to discuss,” she starts.

The use of the ancient language has an immediate effect, on both the angels and the human. Her brothers become fully attentive, knowing that what’s to come has to be important. Penemue had asked never to use Enochian so the humans wouldn’t get suspicious of them.

As for Jody, it evidently sparks her interest to hear an unknown language being spoken. Her stance is more tense and she’s observing Penemue with curiosity. Of course she will tell her friends the angels have been conversing in an incomprehensible manner but Penemue doesn’t care. It has to be done now, while Castiel isn’t present to hear and understand them.

“What is it, Penemue?” Sariel asks, also in Enochian.

“I see our research coming to an end, and I feel like I should share some information with you. It is nothing certain but I think it is an avenue we should explore. And it has to do with the Righteous Man.”

Penemue sends a side-eyed glance to the child, hoping she hadn’t been granted with the understanding of the divine dialect along with being an Oracle. She thankfully still seems subjugated by the storybook on her lap.

“Augusta is convinced that the reason Castiel’s grace was the key element to Metatron’s spell is because he was in love with a human. And that would be the hunter he raised from perdition.”

“But angels can’t love, Penemue. We love our Father and all of his creations, but we do not love individuals. We weren’t built that way,” counters Orifiel.

“You must know of the myths surrounding Castiel. You have to know he is not like us… he never was. They have tried to reform him on many occasions but he always finds his way back.”

“Those are only stories, Penemue. They can’t be true,” Orifiel responds.

“You have to believe me, brother. I have fought alongside Castiel many times before. I have known him through many restorations. He doesn’t remember, but he has rebelled before.”

“Why didn’t God cast him out like he did Lucifer then?” Ambriel asks.

“This, I can’t say. But I do think that God favours him most of all. And I think it has to be because he loves humans so much, just as God had instructed us to. He is Father’s perfect child.”

“He can’t be… You know what he has done. You know how many of us he has killed. How could Father be so proud of him?”

“It is not our place to question our Father’s reasoning, Ambriel. If He is proud of him, then proud as well we shall be.”

“Of course Daddy isn’t proud of little Castiel,” a new voice echoes in the bunker, in English this time.

If the angels gasp in unison. Jody yelps and gets up with Beth in her arms, her eyes travelling between the stairs and the man who just appeared in the library.

“Metatron,” Beth breathes. Jody freezes.

“How did you get in here?” she comes to say, seeing how the angels aren’t doing much but staring in shock at the shorter figure.

“Oh Sheriff, I can go wherever I please. Nice to finally meet you,” he says, offering her that oily smile of his.

“I can’t say the same.”

“Ooh, you’re a feisty one! Sammy’s a lucky fellow. And who might that pretty little lady be?”

“Don’t you get any closer,” Jody growls, receding with the child until her back hits the wall.

“You poor simple mind, there’s nothing you can do against me. Anywho, I just want to say hi to my friend Beth here. Hello Beth,” he says with a predatory smile, waggling his fingers.

“Hello,” she answers, her golden stare not faltering from his.

“Are you having fun living with the Winchesters?”

“Huhun!”

“And how about my children here. Are they being nice to you?”

“They are not your children,” she replies seriously, her eyes squinted.

“Well, our Daddy left us. So someone had to take his place. You of all people should understand that, shouldn’t you?”

“But they don’t want you.”

The scribe stifles a laugh and turns around to walk towards the table.

“I’d rather you stayed, Jody. Please, sit,” Metatron says when Jody tries to leave the room with Beth and they both are suddenly sitting on the armchair again, unable to move away.

“Penemue! My old friend,” he then says, coming to stand next to her. “You must be pretty upset to have let the Winchesters bind your powers right about now, aren’t you? If it helps, just know that you could not have done anything against me anyway. Even fleeing would not have been an option if I desired you to stay. So don’t feel too bad.”

He glances at the notebooks and stacks of papers on the table with moderate interest. Then he looks at the angels who are all observing him with a mix of fear and rage.

“Sariel, Ambriel, Orifiel… how good to see you again. Been a while, hasn’t it? So, what have you been up to? What have you found out? Wanna share with the class?”

Everyone keeps silent, certainly not wanting to reveal anything to the one being they are eager to get rid of.

“Children, you should know that I could just force you to talk if I wanted to,” the powered-up angel berates them, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Besides, I _know_ what you think you know. I just would _love_ to hear you make fools of yourselves is all,” he pouts.

“Why don’t you just end this torture and kill us all?” spits Penemue, speaking for the first time since the scribe’s arrival.

“Now what would be the fun in that? Plus, I’m no killer, Penemue. I thought everyone had understood that by now.”

“You killed so many of our brethren when you boarded up Heaven.”

“Now see, that’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t kill any of them. If they can’t fall to Earth without landing on their feet, that is no fault of mine. You guys didn’t die, should I then be thanked for that too?” He raises an eyebrow, as if waiting for an answer, which of course never comes. “That’s what I thought. I do not kill, all I do is love,” Metatron explains in a sickly sweet tone.

“You’re the furthest thing from love, Metatron,” barks Orifiel who also seems to have regained a bit of courage.

“And how would you know about love? All you know is how to follow orders. It’s a miracle you’re all still alive with nobody to hold your hands.”

“What’s guiding us is the will to survive and to soon be allowed back in Heaven,” Ambriel tells the scribe, also having found his voice.

“This, my dear children, can be arranged. I can let you in if you want.”

“There has to be a price to pay,” Penemue surmises, her chin raised in defiance.

“Of course. All you’d have to do is kill the Winchesters and their pet angel for me. Oh, and those two if you get the chance,” he adds, pointing to Jody and Beth with his thumb. “There’s no reason to leave scraps now, is there.”

“You are an abomination,” Penemue breathes, eyes wide in horror.

“You say _tomayto_ , I say _tomahto_ … I’m God! I could do this all myself but like I said, I choose not to kill. I’d rather give my kids some tasks and reward them with goodies. Like access back to Heaven, for example.”

“We will not be your mercenaries,” Penemue spits, her eyes dark with hate.

“I think you should talk to your crew, _Penny_. They might have a different opinion,” he says with a sly wink.

He brings his hand up, ready to snap his fingers when he looks over at Beth and he hits his palm on his forehead, sniggering.

“Oh sorry, little one! I was forgetting I had muted your little Oracle. I’ll turn it back on now. I hope nothing bad has happened to your daddies,” he grins maniacally before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

It doesn’t take long for everyone to shift their attentions from Metatron to Beth because she has started screaming, grabbing her hair with both her hands. She would have fallen to the floor if Jody hadn’t been already holding her tight.

“Beth! Beth! Sweetheart! Talk to me,” Jody tells the girl, trying to comfort her, with no apparent success.

All she can do is hold her close and make sure she doesn’t fall off her lap, rocking her to try and calm her down. The girl’s face is drenched in both tears and sweat and her whole body is trembling.

“Could one of you get me a washcloth, please? Not dripping but just damp… cold water,” Jody asks to no angel in particular. She is surprised to see Sariel bringing her what she asked for.

“Thanks,” she says, dabbing the fabric delicately all over the girl’s face, then leaving it folded on her forehead.

“Will she be all right?” he asks.

“She will. She seems to be in shock though.”

“You think she has seen something?” he asks again, brows furrowed in either confusion or worry. Jody really can’t tell when it comes to angels.

“Maybe. I guess we’ll know when she comes to,” she answers, keeping her eyes on Beth.

The child seems in fact to be resting right now, even though she’s tense in Jody’s arms. And if her eyes moving underneath her eyelids are anything to go by, she’s far from having a restful sleep. So the sheriff just keeps on rocking her softly, petting her hair and turning over the cloth on her forehead to try and keep her somewhat cool.

“Nunnnn tuuuuuh…” Beth tries to say, her voice low and rough.

“Shhhhhh, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t need—”

“Hunnnnn… The…” she tries again.

“Hush, Beth… sleep,” Jody tries to soothe her.

“Hunters,” she finally is able to say with a crack in her voice. “They’re dying!”

~ ◊ ~

Jody had been able to calm Beth’s second panic attack by dosing her with flu medicine – the children’s kind, of course. She knows it’s not the best way but it was that or letting her spend the day nervous and erratic. No child should have to endure such things so she made an executive decision.

Now she is dosing herself with some adult medicine, also known as Jack, without the rocks this time. It’s her third serving and she’s already eager to start on her fourth. Only because she’s extremely on edge and can’t seem to calm down. She has tried to call the guys, individually and more than once, but none of them has answered or called back yet.

Beth hadn’t been able to tell her the exact fate of Sam, Dean or Castiel. All she kept saying was that the hunters were dying. All over the world. Hunted by Abaddon’s demons. And there were so many that she couldn’t see their faces. Which also made her panic a great deal because she was scared for her own family.

She had fallen asleep, holding Jody’s hand and crying, calling out to her fathers – never referring to them as Dean or Cas, but only as Daddies – and to Sammy. And even though she didn’t let the kid see it, Jody too had let some of her own tears roll down her cheeks. There was no way in hell that she could have found something nice only to have it ripped out of her life again, was there?

She’s unscrewing the bottle of Jack, wondering in her slightly inebriated state if she should even close it back up again when she hears the door upstairs open. Her heart jumps in her chest and she lets the bottle drop on the floor, which thankfully doesn’t shatter. It does let its content spill on the floor but Jody doesn’t see it as she’s already running up the stairs.

All she sees through her tears are three human shapes in dirty clothes and spattered – no, _soaked_ – in blood. She aims for the tallest one and just crashes onto him, tempted to start pummelling at his chest but still aware that he could be hurt and decides to keep the corporal punishment for later.

“Hey Jody,” Sam breathes, doubling over to rest his chin on top of her head.

“Why the crap didn’t you call me?” she grouses, sniffling.

“We were jumped by demons and drove right back… I drove,” he says, hugging her tight. “I’m sorry. The guys are in pretty bad shape, we had to get here fast.”

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital then?” she says, moving away and wiping her tears to take a look at Dean and Castiel. “Oh my God… Come on guys, let’s take care of you. Can you walk down?”

“Yeah… should be… ow!… okay,” sputters Dean, his overshirt dripping with his blood. “Cas?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Where’s Beth?”

“Sleeping.”

“Good! I don’t want her to see us this way.”

Everyone gets to the lower level without any incident. They all make their way to the infirmary, followed by Penemue whose vessel’s experience could be useful once more.

“Not to be an ass, Penny, but my brother and I have been patching each other up our whole lives,” Dean says, laying down on the examination table.

“You do realise that both you and your brother are injured, right? I only wish to help, Dean, I assure you.”

“Yeah… My bro’s a pro in sewing. I guess he’ll tell you if he needs help. Maybe to clean the wound and whatnot… Ow! Son of a bitch,” Dean yells when his brother takes the soaked shirt off his wound and starts poking at the sliced flesh under it. “Careful, dude!”

“Sorry! Actually, Penny, could you check on Cas? Did you ever take a bullet out of a wound? Or actually, did Augusta ever do that?”

“She says she did so it’s no problem. Is it all right with you, Castiel?”

“Whatever needs to be done,” the former angel huffs, having trouble divesting of his shirt.

“So, Jody, if you could take this bottle here and drizzle some on Dean’s cut, I’ll better see what I have to work with,” Sam says to the sheriff, immensely more comfortable working with her than the angel. Especially when his brother is concerned.

So while Sam and Jody tend to Dean, Penemue takes care of Castiel, taking the bullet out of his shoulder and sewing the wound up, then sewing the deep cut on his other arm.

“You might not be able to ever pull your arm all the way back up again. The one where the bullet was,” Penemue explains to Castiel, finishing with the dressing on the other arm. “Augusta doesn’t even think you will be able to bring your elbow higher than your shoulder. But when you unbind us again, I should be able to correct that,” she smiles.

“That would be kind of you, thank you.”

“You know, instead of going through surgical procedures such as these, you could have unbound one of us. We would have just healed you,” she says again.

“True… I don’t think the idea crossed any of our minds.”

“Them, I understand. But you? You were an angel, isn’t it the first thing you would think of?”

“Apparently I am adapting to being human in more ways than one,” Castiel argues. “Thank you, Penny. These look great,” he smiles before getting up from his chair and walking towards Dean who’s still resting on the table while Jody is helping Sam work on his own leg.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly to the hunter.

“Woozy. I feel I should be getting some juice and donuts,” he quips. Seeing the former angel’s quizzical look, he explains. “When you give out blood, they give you juice and donuts so you don’t get low blood sugar or something.”

“You want me to go get you one of Beth’s juice boxes? And cookies? Are cookies okay?”

“Nah, thanks Cas… I think I need a nap. And blood… And okay, maybe a juice box,” Dean slurs, hardly able to keep his eyes open.

“Okay, maybe you want to go to bed then.”

“’m good… here,” the hunter struggles to answer.

“Sam, is Dean okay? Should he be sleeping? Shouldn’t we bring him to his room?”

“Yeah, maybe he’d be better in his bed. You might want to ask the other angels to help though,” he says, still working on sewing the hole in his leg.

“All right.”

Castiel swiftly leaves the infirmary to go back to the library where the three angels are deep in conversation. He’s preoccupied with everything that’s been going on but he has to wonder why the angels are conversing in Enochian. He had never heard them speak the language in here so far. Not that it’s all that surprising; it is the language of the angels after all. It’s what they’re talking about that makes him stop in his stride.

“The price is a small one to pay, Orifiel. It is something we have to think about.”

“That would make us greedy, Sariel. If we do what Metatron asked of us, we are no better than he is. I do not appreciate the Winchesters any more than you do, but I certainly dislike Metatron even more. Think of our brothers.”

“Our brothers would kill us in an instant would they ever find us. Why should I care about them?”

“Because it is our duty. Many of them are lost and they think Sandalphon is their shepherd. We were lucky enough to find a good leader in Penemue. All we need is the older Winchester and then Heaven will be ours again.”

Castiel has to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from gasping in shock. Instead, he decides to walk back the hall a little to start walking up the library again, much louder, so they’d know someone was coming. They can’t suspect he heard them talking.

“Could I borrow some of you? We need to bring Dean back to his room but my arms are pretty useless right now and Sam is also injured,” Castiel is able to say, keeping his tone even.

The three angels get up at once and start walking down the hall towards the infirmary. He hadn’t expected as much but he’s not going to complain. They’ll have more hands if they’re needed.

He’s hoping he’ll soon be able to talk to his friends about what he’s just heard.

~ ◊ ~

“They have to leave,” Sam mutters, keeping his voice low, afraid the angels might be listening in on them.

Everyone is in Dean’s room because he’s the only one to be bed-ridden, even though he is convinced it isn’t necessary. Castiel asked Jody to bring in Beth’s mattress and he made sure the girl would be listening to Sam’s mp3 player, which has much softer music than Dean’s, so she wouldn’t be disturbed by them conversing.

Jody has just told them about Metatron’s visit and his offer to the angels. To which Castiel added his own bit of information about the conversation he’s overheard. Everyone had been stunned to silence until Sam’s comment.

“I think she’s expecting us to unbind them now. Since they’ve helped us,” Sam feels the need to say, even if everyone pretty much already knows it.

“I’m tempted to kick them out and leave them bound,” groans Dean who’s already in a foul mood because he has to stay in bed. The juice and cookies Castiel has brought him seem to have at least helped him get a clearer mind.

“Well, you know what I think about that,” only replies Castiel, his tone unequivocal.

“A guy can dream!”

“So… is anyone gonna talk about the real issue here or are we going to keep on ignoring it?” Jody asks, not paying attention to Sam’s warning stare.

“What’s that?” Dean replies and he does looks like he means it.

“Dean… you and me… my feelings for you which is why Metatron needed my grace. And then your soul maybe being the key to open Heaven again. Is that what you mean, Jody? Is that what we’re talking about?” Castiel’s tone is clipped, apparently at the end of his patience.

“Well… yes,” she confirms, glad to see it all out in the open, finally.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Dean mutters, his mood far from improving.

“Okay Jody, I think the guys should talk it out. They don’t need us for that. We should call the hunters we know and tell them what’s coming, if it hasn’t come yet. Wanna help?”

“Call Krissy first, Sammy. Tell her and her friends to come here if they’re not in a safe enough place, all right?” Dean says. “Oh, wait! Call Charlie first. We should have called her a while ago. She’s not a hunter but I’d feel better if she was here. Tell her it’s an order from her handmaiden.”

“Okay. I’ll be back later. Want us to take Beth with us?”

Both men shake their head. At least they seem to be on the same page. Keeping the child with them in the room will certainly ensure that nothing regrettable happens.

“Would you at least sit?” Dean mumbles after a couple of minutes of watching the former angel pace back and forth.

To his own surprise, Castiel comes and sits next to him on the bed instead of taking the chair in the corner. Dean should certainly know better by now. He should have specified for him to take the chair if that’s what he wanted. Still, he realises he doesn’t care at this point.

“It’s all a crock of shit, right?” starts Dean.

“What is a crock of shit?”

“That spell thing, why it had to be your grace.”

“I’m afraid not,” Castiel breathes. “I always knew I was different. And when I met you it helped me understand how.”

“Dude, you met me in Hell. Slicing up souls. I couldn’t have been all that interesting.”

“As a human, there are so many things you will never understand. Your soul shone so bright. You were the sun and I was Icarus.”

“Didn’t that guy die or something?”

“He did. And so did I. Numerous times in fact. And now I am fallen… human. But I don’t care. Not if you want me.”

“Cas…”

“It’s an easy question, Dean.”

“It’s not the question I have a problem with.”

“Was your experience with the man so unsatisfying?”

Dean takes a look at Beth, still fast asleep with Sam’s headphones on her ears. Some things are not for a child to hear, he knows that much.

“Look… the guy really tried. But I’m not into men, Cas. I’m not—”

“I see,” the angel says, letting his form slump on the bed.

“No, you don’t see,” Dean cuts him off, huffing a soft laugh. “He made me realise I’m not into men. But I’m still into you… I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I’ve known I liked you. I like you. But—”

“But I’m a male.”

“Exactly. Still, when I think of you, all those things the guy did, they kinda make sense. But only if it’s you.”

“What did he do?” breathes Castiel. His voice is too rough to be entirely innocent.

“Cas… Beth is right there,” Dean croaks.

“I need to know. We won’t do anything. I just need to _know_.”

“Fine,” Dean murmurs, making sure he keeps an eye on the child to see that she’s asleep. “We didn’t do much. We started by kissing. It was nice, like kissing a girl. His skin and lips were real smooth.”

“Mine aren’t,” Castiel comments, taking Dean’s hand and tangling their fingers together. Dean lets him do it.

“Then I tried touching him, but it was weird, you know? No boobs and stuff. But I tried again because it wasn’t so bad, just different. I wanted to try and take him in my mouth. I figured that I needed to be able to do that.”

“Hmm… and how was that?”

“I couldn’t go through with it,” Dean mumbles, suddenly feeling a bit silly. “I was to go back downstairs because I thought that was it. Like, that’s it, I’m done, I’m not gay.”

“You don’t have to be gay.”

“No, I know… but then the guy wanted to try and talk to me, wondering why I went up with him in the first place. He wanted to suck me off too but I said no. I told him about you. Because, you know that day we met Crowley, when you were in the shower? Well I kinda heard you jerking off and it got me real… hot,” Dean confides, twiddling his fingers entwined with Castiel’s.

“Huh…”

“Yeah… So anyway, Ray, the hooker – his name was Rafael, can you believe this? I told him I couldn’t call him that, it was just too weird, you know? He even told me he chose that name because he thought all angels were nice and kind and fluffy,” Dean babbles, chuckling.

“Dean!”

“Yeah, sorry… So Ray decides that maybe sex noises are what’s making me horny so he decides to, you know, pleasure himself. I’ve seen my fair share of porn so it didn’t bug me that much. But it was all wrong, he was wrong, his voice was wrong…” Dean whispers, trying to close the gap between his body and Castiel’s.

Castiel sees him wince in pain from the effort and lets go of his hand to instead slide his arm up under Dean and bring his own body flush with his. Dean’s head is resting on his shoulder, thankfully the one that hadn’t been shot.

“Better?” Cas asks.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay… then what?” he prods, folding his arm to rest delicately on the hunter’s chest.

“I dunno… When I heard you that day, I wondered… What you did, how you did it. And then this guy was doing stuff I had imagined. I started thinking of you and I was excited again, you know?”

“What did you imagine I was doing?”

“Not now… seriously, man. ’Cause it’s almost too much just telling you about this stuff.”

“Okay. Then what happened?”

“Well, I got pretty hard and there was a willing mouth so… I closed my eyes and told him to suck me off after all. Which he did and well… that’s it. Then I came out of the room and there you were.”

“I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So what now?”

“How do you mean?”

“What is happening with us? Are we boyfriends now?”

“Whoa there, Cas,” Dean laughs, uneasy. “Okay, we’re having a chat. We know we’re sweet on each other, and that’s great and all. But can we let it all sink in first? I don’t even know if I’ll be able to—”

“But you just said—”

“Look Cas, I like you, I really do. But could we start slow? Just get used to each other? I know it’s a double standard, like you’d be a girl and we’d probably be fucking right about now. But you’re not a girl and I don’t want to mess this up with bad sex. Do you get me?”

“I guess. Is kissing considered a slow start?”

“Well, it’s a start.”

“So… I may kiss you?”

 

 

Dean doesn’t need to answer when his hand instead cups the ex-angel’s stubbled jaw. He doesn’t kiss him right away, revelling in the feeling of another man’s – Castiel’s – scruff, softly brushing the coarse hair with the pads of his fingers. It’s even better than he had imagined. While he closes the distance between their mouths, all he can think about is how he can’t wait to have it burn the inside of his thighs.

The kiss is tentative, but only because both of them seem to be refraining themselves. Castiel to let Dean take it as slow as he wants and Dean to try and take it as slow as he thinks he should. But soon enough it’s pretty apparent that he doesn’t care about slow and all he wants is devour the man whose lips are on his. Then the kiss isn’t tentative anymore but rather hungry, teeth clashing and tongues tasting one another, taking turns in each other’s mouth.

When a first low moan occurs, neither of them knows exactly who made it but both of them are delighted by it. When their mouths finally separate, only to let a bit more oxygen in, Dean finally seems to regain a bit of common sense.

“Beth…” he says, his breath hot on Castiel’s puffed up lips.

“What?” Castiel asks, bemused.

“If you want this to go further, she can’t be here,” Dean hums.

“What about going slow?”

“Slow my ass! I need more…”

“Okay, but I’ll have to get your brother. I can’t move her mattress on my own.”

“I don’t care, just—”

“Daddies,” they hear Beth squeal, making them jump apart.

She’s sitting on her mattress, her pale amber eyes wide and shining, an enormous smile on her little face. It just occurs to them that she had been out of commission since before they even came back. The last thing she thought was that they might have been dead.

“Hey, honey,” Dean greets her. “Come on and say hello! But on Castiel’s side all right? My belly’s hurt.”

She doesn’t have to be told twice and scampers to the bed, getting on it gingerly, making sure she isn’t touching any parts of them. She sees Castiel’s bandaged arms, then Dean’s abdomen, and her lower lip starts to quiver.

“Oh no, honey, don’t cry. We’re okay, I swear,” Dean reassures her, smiling. “It looks worse than it really is.”

“Is Sammy okay?” she asks, working hard to keep her tears at bay.

“He is. His leg’s hurt but he’s fine, like we are. Maybe Cas just won’t be able to lift you up for a while.”

“You will have to climb on me like a little monkey,” Castiel confirms with a laugh.

The girl seems to like the idea and her spirits pick up a little. She looks at them and smiles wide again, a bit too amused all of a sudden.

“What is it, Beth?” Dean inquires, wondering what she could have seen this time.

“I thought I was dreaming before, but I wasn’t. I saw you.”

“You saw me what?”

“No, you and you,” she explains, pointing at each of them. “Kissing,” she adds in a loud whisper.

Both men can only laugh at how seriously excited the kid is about it all. She’s looking at them, eyes wide again, probably waiting for them to confirm what she just told them.

“Yeah, honey, we were,” Dean assures her, nodding softly.

“You love each other, right? Now we’re like a real family, right?”

“Holy crap! You’re just as impatient as your Dad now, aren’t you?” Dean laughs. “We’ll always be a family. How Cas and I will be, well… we’re working on that.”


	16. An Unwanted Guest

Everyone is in the kitchen, enjoying Jody’s mac ’n cheese – and not the boxed kind, thank you very much. Everyone but Dean who had been so tired he fell asleep pretty soon after Beth had joined him and Cas in bed.

Of course, the first thing the girl says to her uncle when she sees him kissing the sheriff is how her daddies are now kissing too, making everyone laugh heartily. Jody and Sam choose not to comment, only glad to know the two men have finally come together.

Still, even though the mood seems light and cheery, there’s a layer of uncertainty hovering over everything that’s being done or said. However how wide everyone’s smiles are or how loud they’re laughing, the threat is out there, looming over their heads. And until Beth speaks, they don’t even know how close to the truth that is.

“Crowley’s in danger,” she suddenly says in that Oracle tone of hers.

“We don’t care that much, sweetheart,” dares to reply Jody, unable to contain herself.

“You will need him but right now, he needs you. And he’s here.”

Just as she says the words, they hear a thunderous clatter coming from the entryway, as if someone is trying to take down the door with a battering ram. Which, in the circumstances, could actually be the case. Almost immediately, Sam’s phone starts to ring.

“Yeah?” he answers, sure he knows who’s calling.

“Moose, let me in,” Crowley pretty much yells, sounding panicked.

“And why would I do that?”

“I have your bloody contract. And I have most of Hell after me. I am requesting asylum.”

“You gotta be kidding me. Do you really think we’re that dumb?”

“I’d rather not answer that. Right now, I need help. Me and my babies need your help.”

“Babies? You brought your hellhounds?” spits Sam, cynical.

“It’s thanks to Juliet and her brothers that I’m alive right now. Open the sodding door, Moose. I won’t be able to help you if I’m dead! And I’ve got a plan.”

“Damn it! Cas… Can we do something to let only Crowley in? Like, still be demon proof except for him?”

“Sam—” Jody tries to warn him.

“Only if he is willing to be detained in the dungeon.”

“Crowley, if—”

“I heard, yes, I bloody don’t care. Open the damn door!”

Sam shuts off his phone and runs towards the front door, followed by Castiel who swerves by the library to grab a black marker.

“Sam, you can’t let him in yet. I have to mark him,” Castiel calls to his friend before following him upstairs, not paying attention to the angels now standing in the war room and eyeing the door with alarm.

The loud banging noises have stopped but there’s still a heaviness that seems to be seeping in even through the thick metal of the door, like a low buzz laced with electricity.

“You have your knife?” Castiel asks Sam, uncapping the marker. He can’t lose a second once the door is open.

“Yeah! So what, I open the door and you doodle on Crowley?”

“If all goes right, nothing more will need to be done. When you’re ready.”

Both men brace themselves before Sam opens the door. Crowley is on top of the small stairway, wielding his own ill-acquired angel blade. He might be a bit on the pudgy side but the King can still fence like the most graceful of swordsmen.

The sky is overcast with dark demon clouds and the earth is trembling under their feet. Along with the rumbling sounds they can hear the invisible hellhounds growling and howling, their teeth crushing the bodies of the possessed humans gunning for their master. The air is saturated with the smells of sulphur, blood, and decay.

“Crowley,” Castiel vociferates while Sam runs up the stairs to make sure no attacker makes it all the way to their door.

The King of Hell wobbles down, stopping in front of the former angel only to see him grab his vest and rip it open, then do the same with his black shirt, flipping his silk tie over his shoulder.

“Careful, you giraffe! I’m not some of your cheap whores so mind the clothes, would you?”

“Shut up,” replies Castiel, drawing on the demon’s torso.

“There’s more coming, Cas. Quick,” Sam yells.

“Almost done,” he yells back, still drawing. “Okay! Everyone inside.”

“What about my hounds?”

“They’re not invited,” growls Sam, pushing the demon inside the bunker.

As soon as the door is closed, Sam grabs Crowley by the collar of his overcoat and pushes him forward, unwilling to leave him to roam free in the bunker for any given time.

“Sam, when you get to the dungeon, break the sigil on his chest with a simple stroke across it,” explains Castiel, throwing him the marker.

“Can’t I get a drink first? I’m pretty shaken up,” the demon whines while getting pushed downstairs.

“You’ll get a drink once you’re tucked away, not a second before.”

“You insensitive yeti! I almost died out there!”

“Haven’t you been dead for centuries already?”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course Sam knows and he certainly can’t bring himself to care. The only silver lining he can see right now is that he still gets to kill the shithead himself once they’re done using him.

Once they get to the dungeon, Sam unceremoniously pushes the demon down on the entrapment chair and secures his arms and legs with the demon proof cuffs before drawing a line on his chest as instructed. He could have also used the demon proof collar but he feels somewhat magnanimous, deciding instead to leave him to breathe – or not breathe – freely.

“So, about that drink?” Crowley asks, as smug as ever.

“You’re gonna have to wait. We were right in the middle of dinner, you see? I think you can survive for an hour without drinking,” Sam responds, leaving the room and shutting the lights and doors behind him.

“Bloody Hell, Moose! Have a heart, would you?”

Sam can still hear the demon cursing at him when he finds himself cornered by the angel squad on his way back to the kitchen.

“Why is this abomination here?” Penemue asks, her stare the hardest he’s ever seen it.

“We need his help so we had to save his life. But no worries, he’s bound, he won’t hurt any of you.”

“What could this beast ever do for you? We probably could do much more were we free to use our powers.”

“May I remind you that we’re the ones helping you here?”

“Indeed. But we could be helpful to you as well. Yet, you keep denying us.”

Usually, Sam is a patient man. Except right now, he’s not feeling so inclined to preserve the feelings of a bunch of douche angels who might only want to sacrifice his brother for their own devices. Still, he knows he has to be careful and can’t give anything away.

“Look. The demon’s staying, and it’s not up for discussion. If you can’t handle it, you’re more than welcome to leave. After all, it seems the answer is not even here,” Sam says, more threatening than he wishes to be. 

What he really wants to do is call them out on Metatron and their plans about Dean but he figures it’d be better not to piss them off until they’re properly kicked out and banned from their home.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d love to have dinner with my family. And don’t bother trying to get to Crowley, the dungeon is warded,” Sam adds, hoping they’ll believe him long enough for Cas to actually do something to keep them out.

“As you wish, Sam. We will stay away from your… guest. Come brothers,” Penemue replies dryly, turning away to go back to the library.

When Sam finally gets to the kitchen, all eyes that fall on him are full of questions. Still, only Castiel speaks.

“Is he secure?”

“Yeah. Let’s let him stir in his own juices for a while. But I think we need to make sure the angels can’t get to him. They could very well decide to kill him since he’s vulnerable. Told them the dungeon was warded against them but I don’t think it is.”

“I’ll go, give me the marker,” Castiel says, getting up from his seat and disappearing down the hall.

“So what, you’re helping the demon now?” Jody asks, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.

“We need him, Jody. And right now, he needs us more, which is a great advantage for us. Don’t worry, he’s not getting out of here alive,” Sam tries to reassure her.

“I hope you’re right,” she only breathes in response, tempted to ask Beth if that’s true.

But she doesn’t. Just in case it isn’t. She doesn’t think she could handle that right now.

~ ◊ ~

Something is wrong when Dean emerges from sleep. Well, not wrong – different. While he’s slowly erupting from sleep, groggy and sore, he realises he’s not alone. Then he remembers Beth had been in his bed earlier.

But no, the size of the body behind him doesn’t fit the kid’s small frame. That’s when he remembers Cas had been in the bed too. Then he recalls that they talked, and kissed. Apparently Cas would have decided that meant he could share Dean’s bed.

If he has to be honest, at least with himself, Dean doesn’t find the warmth sharing his memory foam to be all that unpleasant. It’s not like they’re cuddling or anything. Which, really, would not be all that bad either.

“Dean? Are you awake?” Castiel asks, making the hunter realise how close the ex-angel’s mouth is to the back of his neck.

“Yeah… just woke up. How long was I out?”

“About four hours… how are you feeling?”

Again with the ex-angel’s breath on his skin. Dean tries to ignore the heat pooling at the base of his spine, slowly swirling towards his groin.

“I… I’m fine. You?”

“Some things happened while you were sleeping, you might want to get up. You think you can get to the kitchen?”

“Huh… yeah… gimme a minute, will you?”

“Do you need my help?”

“No, I’ll be all right. But I’d love some coffee though,” Dean states, trying to get up without tearing his stitches apart.

“I’ll prepare some. Just call out if you need help,” Castiel says before rolling off the bed and exiting the room.

It takes a few minutes for Dean to feel secure enough to stand up. Gingerly, he walks to his dresser and opens it to grab a t-shirt. Idea he sort of regrets when he’s halfway done putting it on. Instead of backing out and putting on a shirt instead, he grits his teeth and pulls down on the cotton garment, hoping not to pull any stitches.

Before going to the kitchen, he stops by the bathroom to splash some water on his face and brush his teeth. Mostly to get rid of the copper-like taste in his mouth but he’s also unsure of what he’s expected to do. Not that it should matter, really. But he’s wondering what Cas and he are to one another now.

They’re not boyfriends, Dean had been clear about that. Well, until he decided that kissing wasn’t enough and clearly wanted to forego the whole going slow idea when it came to sex. But then the kid woke up and Dean is now a little glad about that. He doesn’t want to mess things up and offer things he might not be able to give just yet.

Not that he’s totally clueless about butt sex; he’s been with some kinky girls in his time. But now there are bits and pieces that would make it quite different. Hand jobs, he doesn’t think will be a problem. Been there, done that, if only on himself. And, well, a dick’s a dick, right? But then there’s the blowjobs. And then maybe getting more than the tip of a thin manicured finger up his ass… Does he even want that?

He splashes more water on his face, making sure it’s the coldest possible. He can’t keep having these thoughts. Not right now. They have much more important things to worry about than damn anal play and how Dean Winchester might or might not be into it.

“Are you all right, Dean?” he hears Castiel call from the hall.

“Yeah… sorry… coming,” Dean stutters before towelling his face dry.

When he comes out of the bathroom, Castiel is waiting for him, leaning with his back to the wall. And as if all those anxious thoughts hadn’t just happened, Dean smiles at the man who smiles right back at him. When Castiel kicks himself off the wall, it is to approach Dean slowly, cupping a hand on his jaw. But instead of going in for a kiss he just locks his blue eyes onto Dean’s green ones.

“I truly don’t mind taking it slow, Dean,” Castiel only says, making sure Dean can see how sincere he is.

“I’d like that,” replies Dean, covering the hand laying on his cheek with his own.

“Good,” Castiel smiles before softly brushing his lips against Dean’s. “Let’s go, they’re waiting for us,” he adds, grabbing the hunter’s hand and pulling him down the hall.

~ ◊ ~

Dean’s coffee is cooling in front of him, forgotten the minute he heard the news of Crowley being inside the bunker’s walls. He wants to be pissed – hell, does he ever – but he also knows that they need him and that’s kind of making him wanna throw up instead. And now he’s so tensed that it’s as if he can feel the stitches on his abdomen pop one by one.

Would he not be so mad he would probably have come up with some clever wordplay – or so he thinks – about him Hulking out of his own skin or something. But he doesn’t and all he can think of is how deep in shit they are right now.

“So we pretty much can’t leave the bunker now, can we?”

“I’m afraid not,” Castiel responds.

“And we’re stuck here with angels who might want my fucking soul and the King of Hell who’s wanted by every demon in creation?”

“It is a fair assessment, yes,” Castiel says again.

“And Metatron can come in and turn off Beth’s Oracle whenever he wishes,” Dean concludes harshly.

“Indeed.”

“Do you regret stopping me completing the trials now?” Sam laughs, although it is bitter.

“Never,” growls Dean. “Don’t you ever say that, Sammy. You dead isn’t better than any of that shit, you hear me?” he insists, pointing a finger at his brother.

“Your brother is right, Sam. Nothing is worth your sacrifice. Or yours, Dean,” Castiel adds, giving him a stern look.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Dean chides him.

“Guys, this is cute and all, but what do we do now?” Jody interrupts them, grasping her lover’s hand to ground herself.

“Well, first off… did you guys talk to Charlie, or Krissy? Other hunters?” Dean starts.

“Yeah, well… Charlie is somewhere down in California, I told her to bring her ass back here as soon as she can. She’ll call us back when she’ll be—”

“How about Krissy?”

“She says she won’t come here. They’re a pretty big group now, like seven or eight kids. But she promised they’d be careful and Sam emailed her all the sigils and demon traps they need to ward their home,” Jody informs him.

“Great. She’ll be keeping in touch?”

“Yeah, Jody asked her to touch base every other day. As for me, I tried to call all the other hunters we know. I couldn’t get a hold of most of them. Those I was able to reach already knew about the demon attacks but they agreed to try and reach as many hunters as they could on their end. Like a phone tree kind of thing.”

“Good, good. Did you hear anything about Garth?”

“Nobody I talked to has heard about him in ages. I think he might be dead, Dean.”

“Damn it… Okay, so now what?”

“Well, I guess now we should pay a little visit to the demon,” Castiel offers without much enthusiasm.

“Jody?” Sam asks, bashful.

“I’ll keep an eye on Beth, don’t worry. Anything but going near that monster.”

“Thanks. I’ll make it up to you,” Sam says, kissing her gently.

When the three men get to the dungeon, the King of Hell is of course still sitting where Sam had left him, mostly looking bored.

“Well if it isn’t the menagerie à trois! Where’s my drink, Moose?” the demon says, condescending.

“Don’t worry, brought you some of the good stuff,” Dean answers, showing him one of the bunker’s Wild Turkey bottles. “I take you’d want some?”

“It probably tastes like piss, but all right, if that’s the best you have,” he sneers.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Crowley,” Dean tells him, unfastening one of his arms from the chair. “And now it’s down to business. You told Sam you had a plan?”

“One arm? Really?”

“You don’t need both to drink. Now speak up,” Sam snaps at him.

“All that angel business of yours? It could be over real quick.”

“And why would you care?” asks Castiel, rightfully suspicious.

“They’re killing my kind, what do you think, genius?”

“Your kind that was all over your ass a minute ago?” Dean conveys, dropping a glass of bourbon in front of the demon.

Crowley shrugs and huffs before taking a sip of the amber liquid. He seems surprisingly pleased and smirks, before taking another sip.

“So… what’s your big plan?” Dean asks, screwing the cap back on the bottle and setting it on the floor, far from the demon’s reach.

“Quite frankly, I’m amazed you haven’t thought of it yourselves – not surprised, given the total sum of your IQs – but amazed nonetheless. That buddy of yours, Metatron, he’s a marvellous case of the God complex, isn’t he? Freud would be so proud.”

“He sure has godlike powers,” Sam replies, not giving the demon the satisfaction of reacting to his insults.

“And who do we know is capable of smiting God Himself?” he asks as if quizzing kindergarteners.

“Don’t you think we haven’t thought about it, you big turd?” Dean shoots, slapping both hands on the table in front of the demon. “Except the last time we tried to ask Death for help, he pretty much warned us never to try again. That next time he wouldn’t be leaving here without souvenirs, if you get my drift.”

“He doesn’t care about what goes on here. We are inconsequential to him. If Father was able to abandon us without so much of a regret, how do you think His reaper feels?” confirms Castiel in a sharp growl.

“Oh, boo bloody hoo. You know his precious little reapers can’t do their sodding work now, right? I’ve talked to a couple of them. They’re a whole other level of angry, as you might imagine.”

“Is that so? Then why don’t _they_ call their boss and have him take care of Metatron?” Dean feels the need to ask, even if he knows from experience that the reapers are not supposed to be calling upon Death. But this is far from being a normal situation.

“How should I know? Maybe their call’s not going through. Do I have to do all the work around here?”

“Everything you’re saying isn’t making a lick of sense,” groans Dean.

“I wouldn’t expect your squirrel brain to understand.”

“It’s possible Metatron could be doing something to the reapers too. He was able to silence the Oracle,” Castiel theorizes, averting the demon’s eyes while doing so.

“So who says he’ll let us call on Death? If he can cut the cord between the reapers and their boss, I can’t imagine he’ll let us through,” Sam says.

“Hello! King of Hell, here. Don’t you think I might be able to counter whatever wizardry that berk’s mustered up?”

“Says the guy tied up in our dungeon,” Dean taunts him.

“What if I _wanted_ to be tied up in your dungeon?” leers Crowley, mock flirting with the hunter.

“You’re a kinky fucker, that’s what—”

“Enough you two,” Sam roars, giving his brother and the demon the stink eye. “Can you really call upon Death? And what, you’ll do this because you like us so much?” Sam asks Crowley, arms crossed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Moose. Of course I don’t like you. And I won’t be doing anything before you ice Abaddon.”

“That’s not what we agreed on,” Dean tries to remind him.

“Well excuse me to try and give you more than you asked for.”

“Which means you want more,” Castiel presumes.

“All I want is the bloody angels to leave. I can’t do my job while they hang out down here. With the angels gone, life’ll be better for you and me both.”

“You know that Metatron being dead doesn’t mean Heaven will open again, right?” Sam explains.

“That’s your problem, not mine. I help you get rid of Metatron, you work on getting the birdies back in their cage. But only after you get rid of Abaddon.”

“What about Beth? Without that contract we got no deal,” Dean insists, not wanting to see the most important part of their arrangement be forgotten about.

“Of course. I take you’ll want to read it?” Crowley says, producing a rolled-up parchment from the inside pocket of his coat.

“You know it. We’ll read it and come back to you,” Dean tells him, grabbing the contract. “Night, night,” he says with a smirk before all three men leave the room, closing the door behind them once more.

“Damn it, Winchester. You could have left the bourbon. What am I going to do now,” they hear the demon complain while they make their way back to the kitchen.

“Kind of tired of spending my time in the kitchen, guys,” whines Dean. He’s surprised to think he’d rather be spending the evening in the library.

“I know… we can’t very well go discuss this with the angels now, can we?” Sam answers.

“No but… we could kick them out? Isn’t that what we had agreed on?”

“Maybe we should hang on a little bit? Until the demons outside get tired of waiting for Crowley to come out?” Castiel offers.

“Cas, we’ll give them back their powers, they can defend themselves.”

“But they still are wingless. Can’t we wait a little?” Castiel pleads.

“All right. We’ll see how it looks tomorrow then.”

~ ◊ ~

“It all looks good to me. Now who’s going to sign it?” Sam asks after he’s done reading through Crowley’s document.

“Well, you read it, so I guess you might wanna sign it,” Dean responds with a smile.

“Yeah, but it’s really about your kid, isn’t it?” Sam counters.

“We agreed as a whole, Sam. We’re all taking care of her.”

“Maybe… But I’m not the one she calls Daddy,” Sam argues, a satisfied grin on his face. He knows he’s won that one.

“Whatever, man! So, Cas… wanna sign that contract?”

“I do believe the signature will be enough, Dean. I doubt any of us would be required to kiss Crowley. But if you insist I can sign the contract, I don’t care. As long as Beth is safe.”

“Thanks, dude. I’d rather not go where Bobby has gone before,” Dean replies smugly. “No offense,” he adds, still smiling at his brother.

“Whatever, Dean. May I remind you of your boyfriend’s tongue in Meg’s mouth?”

“Dude! You full on banged a demon, so you know… shut up! And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Give it up, Dean. Beth told us you guys were kissing.”

“So? Boyfriend is sappy as shit. We’re not sappy,” Dean spits but still grabs the angel’s hand so there’s no doubt there’s indeed _something_ between them.

“Damn you’re weird, man.”

“You’re weird… bitch,” brilliantly counters Dean with a shit eating grin.

“Jerk,” Sam smiles back. “So what now? We sign the contract and then what?”

“We need to get a low down on that bitch and snuff her,” states Dean.

“Do you have a plan?” asks Castiel.

“Nope! She’s got an army at her feet, she’s pretty much untouchable.”

“But we have something she wants—” starts Sam.

“We’re not using Beth as bait,” growls Castiel, sounding just as powerful as he did when he was an angel. Which is, weirdly enough, not lost on Dean.

“Jeez, no, of course not. But we have Crowley,” Sam quickly defends himself, not getting the same kind of vibe from his friend’s display of power.

“Sam, I hate to say it but I doubt he’s gonna help us after we try to use him as bait. And his plan isn’t a bad one.”

“Dean is right. We will have to find her some other way,” Castiel confirms.

“Can a Knight of Hell be summoned?” Sam asks Castiel. 

“I honestly don’t know. They are demons, albeit more powerful, but they should still be subjected to the same rules.”

“How about the devil’s trap?” Sam feels the need to ask.

“Should work too… hell, it kept her inside that body when etched in a bullet, didn’t it?” Dean offers, remembering the last time they got to her.

“So what… we summon her into a devil’s trap, shoot an etched bullet up her face and chop her up again? That’d be the plan?” Sam summarizes.

“Pretty much,” Dean agrees.

“It does seem a bit all too easy, doesn’t it?” wonders Castiel, eyes squinted.

“Well… easy… it’s not that easy to chop someone up in parts, Cas. Pretty nasty actually,” Dean answers with his upper lip curled in disgust.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Nah, I know but… sometimes it’s the simplest things that work. And if it doesn’t, then… let’s just hope we’ll get to live to try for something a little less simple.”

“So when do we do this? And where? Because we got the perfect room here to trap her in.”

“Sammy… I’m not sure I wanna let that hellbitch in here,” Dean warns his brother.

“No, I know but, we kinda wanted to bury her underneath the bunker anyway, didn’t we?”

“Still… If the trap thing doesn’t work, she’ll kill us all. And take Beth.”

“What do you suggest we do, Dean? Go out there and be vulnerable to every demon in existence instead?” asks Castiel stiffly. “Or even better, send Beth out there while we deal with Abaddon? What, Dean?”

The former angel is trying to stay calm but he’s not succeeding, worrying at his lower lip and clenching his fists so hard his nails are digging in his palms almost hard enough to draw blood. And instead of getting frustrated with him over it, Dean elects to bring a calming hand on his _non-boyfriend_ ’s back.

“I don’t know, Cas. But we’ll find a way, all right? We’ll make sure Beth is safe and out of Abaddon’s reach, I promise,” Dean soothes him, dragging his hand softly up and down the man’s back. 

“Yes, okay. I’m sorry. I’m just tired I think. It will be morning soon and I haven’t slept since the demons attacked us,” Castiel apologizes, melting into Dean’s touch.

“You should go to bed and sleep some. You too, Sam. You haven’t slept either.”

“We all should go to sleep,” Sam agrees, trying not to pay attention to the expectant look the former angel is sending to his brother. “So, I’m off. See you later guys,” he says, getting up and leaving the kitchen.

Dean and Castiel stay seated, unmoving, both uncertain of what should be happening at this point.

“So—” they start together which makes them clam up again.

After a somewhat tensed minute, Castiel exhales and grabs Dean’s hand, hoping the hunter will understand he has something he needs to say. Luckily, the man understands and lets his hand be taken, nodding to confirm that he’s listening.

“I do not expect our sleeping arrangements to change, Dean.”

“I—”

“But I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to spend the night next to you,” the angel says in a single breath, not letting his friend interrupt him. “I am not saying I want to have intercourse, even though I would like that very much in the future. But right now, I would love to only sleep by your side.”

“Cas—”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I thought I might as well just tell you, seeing how keeping things from one another has been nothing short of disastrous in the past. But even though this is what I would like, I will respect your wishes. Just know that when you are ready, I am too.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Dean protests before crashing his mouth onto Castiel’s, both in an attempt to silence him and, frankly, because he really wants to.

The kiss is hungry, messy, with Dean’s hands now tight on Castiel’s neck and jaw, brushing a thumb across that delightful scruff the angel never seems to be able to get rid of. _“Or maybe he just doesn’t know how to shave properly,”_ Dean thinks, not that he’s ever going to show him because he does love the feeling under his fingers.

And Dean hums contentedly, licking in his friend’s mouth and sucking on his lips and tongue, taking in Castiel’s similar sounds and how his breath hitches when Dean starts licking at his jaw, then down his throat.

“Dean…” Castiel croaks, burying both hands in Dean’s short hair, nails scraping his scalp.

At this moment, Dean has to stop wondering if he’d ever be able to be intimate with Cas. Only because it’s now all he can think of, especially since he’s manhandled the angel so he’d straddle him. When their crotches collide, it’s like a thunderstorm in Dean’s body, complete with flashes of lightning bursting from all extremities. Every single one of them.

If his dick was pretty interested before, it is now aggressively begging for attention. Castiel has to be in the same condition because he is grinding down on Dean’s lap in a motion that should certainly be unnatural for any Angel of the Lord. But it does a marvellous job of rubbing their still clothed and hard cocks together.

Usually, Dean would be all for some kind of nakedness right about now. And he doesn’t see how it should be different with Cas except that he doesn’t think they have time to try and fumble with buttons and zippers. The friction as it is right now is too good and he doesn’t want it to stop.

So he gets skin any which way he can, mouthing at Castiel’s neck and pulling his body against his, palms flat on his back under his shirt, thrusting his hips up. He has a fleeting thought about taking off his friend’s shirt and t-shirt but he can’t even get to start when his mind instead grows rapidly blank, less and less coherent the closer he gets to completion.

All he musters to do is find purchase in Castiel’s body, crushing it against his with no regards for those damn stitches. He hides his face in Castiel’s chest and has to bite through the shirt to muffle his cries. It doesn’t take long for Cas to come as well, keeping the hunter’s forehead on his chest with a firm grip on the back of his head, grunting his release low in the man’s ear.

They stay entangled, breathing erratically, for what is probably not such a long time considering how uncomfortable they really are. It is the first thing they both realise once they start coming down from their orgasmic high.

Dean is the first one to try and move away from Castiel. Not too much, only enough to be able to take a look at his friend’s blissed out features. And it hits him that he most certainly looks the same and he kind of likes the thought of it.

_ “There you have it, Dean Winchester is officially one hundred percent gay for the angel,” _ Dean thinks, not even weirded out. He’s got the proof right now in the very teenage-like mess in his jeans. It’s actually pretty funny.

“What?” inquires Castiel who’s getting pretty heavy on his thighs.

“Nothing! Let’s go clean up and then off to bed, all right?” Dean smiles, pushing Castiel off him and getting up.

“Together?”

Again, Dean laughs a little. Without a word, he grabs Castiel’s wrist so he understands he can follow the hunter wherever he’s going.


	17. Of Red And Black

It takes about a week for the bunker to be ready for Abaddon.

First of all, they were glad to find that indeed the bunker had a crawl space that they could be digging into. If they found already buried artefacts and bones, they most certainly didn’t disturb them. Instead they went a bit further and dug a big enough hole to contain the several boxes that would be holding the Knight of Hell’s dismembered body.

In a supply closet, they also found a stack of empty wooden boxes they were able to mark with containment and warding sigils, thanks to some kind of wood burning iron that may or may not have been found in the dungeon’s _toy box_.

Since the whole demon community seemed to have decided to leave the bunker alone, Dean was able to take the Impala for a supply run of plastic tarps and bags, fast-drying cement and loads of rock salt. If they were to bury the bitch, they’d be making sure she could never crawl back out.

Now they are ready and all they need for the summoning spell is gathered on the table in the dungeon. As for Crowley, he’s been stowed away with his chair in an empty room a little further down the hall. He’s been pestering against it but they’re not taking the slightest chance of having them both in the same room. He only stops whining when they promise they’ll show him her head once they’re done with her.

The angels, still in the bunker mostly because they might be needed if the plan turns sour, are waiting in yet another room. They are still bound but if anything happens, Sam’s main mission will be to unbind them and hope they’ll be able to lend a hand.

Then there’s Jody and Beth, hidden away in the garage, sitting in the Sheriff’s cruiser, which has been warded to the extent of now resembling a clown car. Quite frankly, it took a bit of convincing for Jody to let Dean write all over her official vehicle. But at least now, if everything turns to shit, Jody can leave the bunker with the kid and she should be safe enough until they get to Krissy’s digs in Conway Springs.

As per their plan, Sam is standing right outside the dungeon, ready to run to the angels if need be. Dean is standing inside, his colt fully loaded with devil’s trap bullets and ready to bury as many as necessary in the beast to come. Actually, a shot like Henry had made the first time around would be best but there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to get close enough for that. Doesn’t mean he’s not gonna try.

As for Castiel, he’s ready to complete the summoning spell. He looks at both men and nods before turning back towards the makeshift altar. Neither of the brothers hears the words the former angel mumbles while he lets blood trickle from his sliced forearm, or when he throws a lit match in the copper bowl. Sparks and smoke arise but it’s nothing new. What’s new is the unexpected earthquake that rumbles through the whole bunker, strong enough to make the three men lose their balance.

When the crimson haired demon appears in the middle of the devil’s trap, her piercing scream is so loud that they have to try and muffle the sound with their hands. She is trapped and understandably pissed off, her eyes glowing even though they’re as black as tar pits.

The scream is not dialling down and Dean decides that his hands are not stopping much of it anyway. He extends the hand holding the gun, grimacing once he realises how wrong he was about his palm not muffling enough of the sound. But he doesn’t budge, even when wetness starts to drip from his now uncovered ear.

The first bullet goes right through her left side, probably messing up some not so vital organ – not vital to a demon anyway. The second bullet goes over her shoulder as it has become a bit difficult to stand straight with all the earthquaking and the thrumming of the eardrums. Still, Dean has to keep on trying and brings his second hand to the gun to stabilise his aim.

While he shoots two more bullets at her, which both go right through her thigh, Sam is hesitating between trying to help his brother and getting the angels. He doesn’t know what they’d be able to do but he decides they would be more helpful than him. As for Castiel, he doesn’t really think before trying to grab a hold of the demon so Dean can at least fire a shot somewhere the bullet will likely stay put.

“Cas! Get outta there,” Dean screams when he sees the ex-angel rush inside the trap.

“We need to hold—” he tries to explain before she sends him flying. Clearly the devil’s trap doesn’t affect her strength whatsoever.

“Cas, you good?”

“Yeah,” he groans, failing to sit up.

“Fucking bitch,” Dean growls, taking a couple of steps to get closer to the demon, careful not to enter the trap.

He shoots again, aiming for her head. The first bullet grazes her skull, creating a weird dip in her hairdo.

“You stupid meat sack, don’t you know you can’t touch a lady’s hair?”

“Not a lady,” Dean spits, shooting her again, aiming a bit lower. The bullet goes right through her skull, ending its course in the wall behind her.

“Fuck,” yells Dean. He’s only got two bullets left.

“Will you cut it out?” she yells at him, trying to grab him but he’s still far enough removed from the circle.

“Like hell I will,” he sneers back, seeing the opportunity of having her this close to him.

He takes a step forward, then two, making him enter the devil’s trap and be at her mercy.

The last thing he sees before she snaps his neck is the glee in her eyes turning into shock when the final bullet he fires lodges itself in her brain and doesn’t come out.

The last thing he hears is Castiel’s horrified scream.

~ ◊ ~

When Dean wakes up, it’s in a start. He’s on the floor of the dungeon with Penemue kneeling beside him. On his other side is kneeling Castiel who doesn’t hesitate before grabbing him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Dean Winchester, you’re the dumbest man on the planet,” the angel says in a shaky breath.

“Yeah, I know… Is she dead?”

“If not dead, she is nicely beheaded. She deserved as much.”

“Did you do it?”

“I might have felt the need for some retribution, yes.”

“Awesome! So I take that you’re fully powered-up, Penny?” Dean asks, looking at the angel, a bit apprehensive.

“Indeed. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I also healed your wounds from last week’s demon encounter.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes, Penemue. Thank you. Without you Dean would be… I would have lost him,” Castiel can only muster to say.

“Where’s Sam?” asks Dean, suddenly worried to see his brother absent from the room.

“He’s with the other angels in the cellar, they’re preparing to bury Abaddon.”

“So she’s dead?”

“As dead as she can ever be, yes.”

“Very well then. So Penny, did you make Cas all better too?”

“Not yet, he wanted me to heal you first,” she says, cupping the former angel’s cheek with her hand.

A soft blue glow seeps into Castiel’s pores and he looks instantly refreshed, the bags under his eyes disappearing and his skin losing the ashy tint it’s been sporting for some months now. He rolls his shoulders back, pleased to feel that the throbbing in them is gone.

“Thank you, Penny,” smiles Castiel, getting up on his feet and offering his hand to Dean so he can haul him up.

“Help the lady instead, would you?” Dean huffs, a little embarrassed, before getting on his feet by his own means.

After helping Penemue get up, not that she would have needed his help either, Castiel walks to the remaining limbs scattered in the devil’s trap and grabs two halves of a leg. Dean follows and grabs the last piece, a slender forearm.

“We should separate the hand,” he notes, following the ex-angel to the burying grounds.

“Sariel just forgot. He brought the axe with him so we can do it down there. Oh, and be careful with that arm, she can still try to grab you.”

“Yeah, I got that much,” Dean replies, repulsed at the sight of the demon’s hand just twirling about. “It’s disgusting man. I can feel the muscles moving and shit. It’s like a fucking snake.”

“It is…” Castiel agrees, gripping the leg parts tightly, making sure the foot is far enough from him so it won’t start kicking him silly.

They quickly get down to the cellar where Sam and Sariel are preparing the cement, using holy water in the mix. Ambriel and Orifiel are bagging Abaddon’s body parts, bagging them a second time in bags filled with

Dean spots the axe near Ambriel and grabs it to chop Abaddon’s hand at the wrist. He quickly bags it, then double-bags it in salt. That just might keep it still for a while. And if one of the sharp red nails pierces through the bag, it’ll just cause the hand to be coated in salt. That might not be pleasant.

“Where’s the head?” he asks, thinking of their promise to Crowley.

“Already bagged. Showed it to Crowley already and it’ll be buried with a spurt of his saliva, of all things,” Sam answers.

“Better that than any other kind of spurt, if you ask me.”

“Why do you have to be so gross, Dean?” Sam bitchfaces him.

“We’re all gross, man. We’re burying a sliced up chick in our basement. If that’s not gross—”

“Whatever… oh, and glad you’re alive by the way,” Sam says with a warm smile.

“Yeah, me too. Thanks for… you know.”

“I know. We did it, Dean.”

“Yeah, we did. And I only had to die once,” Dean chuckles.

“Shut up,” grumbles Cas, clearly not as amused as he is.

“Come on, Cas… I’m all right. We knew this might happen.”

“I said shut up… please. Let’s finish this, okay?”

“Fine,” Dean surrenders, seeing how Castiel seems spooked about him dying. “So, where do you guys want me?” he asks his brother.

“If you wouldn’t mind stirring the cement a bit, I’ll call Jody and let her know everyone’s alive,” Sam says before grabbing his brother in a tight hug.

He might have known that Dean would be okay, and he might have seen him die so often he should almost be immune by now, but the pain and fear he had felt when he saw his brother lifeless on the floor had been just as acute as the first time it happened.

“All right,” Dean laughs softly, clapping on his brother’s back. “I’m all good, Sammy.”

“I know… just try not to die anymore, all right? We have work to do and dying’s not an excuse not to pitch in,” Sam replies with a crooked smile before turning around to make his call.

It doesn’t take that long for them to be done with Abaddon, even though they still had to triple bag every parts of her and fill those with cement, put them in the individual salt-filled warded boxes and then bury everything in the ground, lace the dirt with salt and douse everything with holy water.

“We could have drawn a devil’s trap with the remaining cement and then added another layer of dirt. Right? Extra protection?”

“I honestly think it’s protected enough as it is, Dean,” Castiel counters, thinking they still could keep that cement devil’s trap idea for some other time.

“Is it only me or is it weird to think we’ll be living right over her corpse?”

“It’s not just you…” Sam confirms, grabbing some tools and getting ready to go back upstairs. “Maybe someday we’ll all be able to leave here and get normal homes. You know, with windows and stuff.”

~ ◊ ~

Sandalphon is sitting in his office, which is nothing more than a room in an abandoned motel. He would have preferred to get something more posh but his vessel hadn’t quite been the moneymaker. It’s not like he needs anything since he doesn’t eat, drink or even sleep. So really, this is just so they would have somewhere to assemble if needed.

The only human invention he’d been adhering to starts ringing in his pocket and he reaches for it, flipping it open to answer. The person on the other end speaks immediately, not waiting for a greeting.

“Abaddon has been eliminated.”

“She’s dead?”

“Just as good as dead, yes.”

“What about Crowley?”

“Still with the Winchesters. I do not have access to him.”

“The demon does not concern me. I do believe he does not want the Oracle.”

“I believe this is true, yes.”

“Is that all the information you have?”

“We had to save Dean Winchester’s life.”

“Did his soul have time to—”

“No! He was resurrected fast enough. But I’m pretty sure his only soul would not be enough.”

“I agree. Still, nothing can happen to that boy, you hear me?”

“Do not fear, brother. Everything is going according to plan,” Sandalphon hears before the line goes dead.

The angel exhales and shuts off his phone, putting it back in his pocket. He would prefer to be in that bunker himself and supervise the operations but of course, he can’t. He still has to prepare his troops for the war to come. So much work to be done.

It’s during moments like these that he almost regrets getting rid of Xaphan.

~ ◊ ~

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard!”

Charlie is sitting on her bed and Dean has just told her what had been happening, finishing up with the morbid faith Abaddon had encountered less than two days prior. She had communicated with the guys to announce her arrival and had been lucky enough not to see any demons or angels on her way to them. It did make Dean question if bringing her in the bunker was such a good idea after all.

“So you’re telling me that this unkillable demon chick is just… buried underneath our feet?” she asks with a loud gulp, wiggling her toes before bringing her feet up on the bed.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. She can’t get out on her own. And since pretty much no supernatural creature can get in the bunker unless we say so, she might just stay there for all eternity.”

“Won’t it smell at some point?”

“Huh… I don’t think so, since she’s not actually dead. She shouldn’t rot, I guess.”

“Ew… okay. So, what’s next for you guys? When do you take down Metatron?”

“We don’t know yet. Crowley still needs to summon Death.”

“And how about that other thing?”

“What other thing?” Dean asks, innocently enough.

“Heaven, the angels, the love spell?”

“I don’t know. If we can get Death to make Metatron open Heaven back up, and kill the bastard of course, then it’s not something we’ll have to worry about,” Dean answers with a smile.

“Okay… forget I said spell then. What about the love?” she asks instead with a knowing smile.

“Like I told you before, now’s not the time for all this, you know? We have much bigger problems to worry about.”

“What if you die? What if Cas dies? You can’t pass this oppor—”

“I did die. Penemue brought me back.”

“Didn’t you say you guys wanted to kick them out? What then? No angel means no resurrection, Dean. You of all people should know that if something nice happens, you just might as well enjoy it while it’s there.”

“Oh, I know about those. They’re called one night stands,” Dean grins.

“You know what I mean… remember Gilda? The fairy you freed from that Gerry creep?” she specifies when Dean looks puzzled. “Anyway… I never saw her again, but hell if I was gonna let this opportunity go to waste.”

“That’s what I said… one night stands. But that’s not something I can do with Cas.”

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make. Pretty sure I would have been glad to try and date Gilda but she had to go. I didn’t know then if I was going to die or not, so I went for it.”

“I’m not even sure why you’re telling me all this. I told you, Cas and I talked and we’re on the same page. We enjoy each other right now and if we get out of it alive, then I guess we’ll just see where this is going… or something. And remember, I’m pretty much a newbie at all that gay stuff.”

“It so difficult to talk to you, Dean Winchester,” Charlie says after taking a deep breath. “All I’m saying is if you love the guy, you better tell him before it’s too late. And, well, about your kind of gay stuff, I can’t very well help. But I’m pretty sure you’ll get the hang of it quickly enough.”

Dean has to wonder how he can speak so freely about this crap with Charlie. Even when his brother tries, it always ends up feeling like nails on a blackboard. Maybe it’s because he is, after all, his baby brother.

And it’s not like he’s had that many close friends before to have this type of conversations with. Hell, he’s never even had anyone in his life to have this type of conversations about. Okay, except for Cassie or Lisa maybe, but there had never been anything complicated or nerve racking there, for some odd reason.

“And I have to say, the Supernatural books? They didn’t do him any justice. That guy is not dreamy, he’s smouldering hot. And I should know, I’m a lesbian,” Charlie continues, beaming. “So, when do I meet your kid?” she says again after a while.

“Well, it’s the middle of the night so it’s gonna have to be at breakfast.”

“She knows I’m here, right? I wouldn’t want to scare her if she sees me before we’re introduced.”

“Yeah, she knew you were coming. She can’t wait to meet you. She’s the most adorable kid, you’ll see.”

“I gotta say, I’ve never been around kids much. Not sure I’ll know how to handle her.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay,” Dean reassures her, getting up to leave the room. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, I think so…”

“You know where everything is? Bathroom, showers, towels, kitchen?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Now go. We’ll talk more later. And thanks for bringing me here, I appreciate that you wanted me to be safe.”

“You know we do! Good night, Charlie,” he says, leaving the room.

“G’night Dean,” she answers as the door closes on him.

Dean walks two doors down and opens the door delicately, not wanting to wake up Castiel who should be asleep in his bed.

When Charlie arrived at about 1:00 am, everyone had turned in already. She had texted Dean to open the garage so she could park her yellow Gremlin. Castiel had gone with him to meet her but had soon retreated back to Dean’s room. The friends spent close to two hours going over everything that’s been happening in the last months.

So it’s a surprise for Dean to see Castiel sitting in the bed reading instead of sound asleep as he expected. Not that he minds but he himself is pretty much ready to just crash. When the ex-angel sees him, he closes his book and puts it on the bedside table. He waits until Dean is under the covers before turning off the lamp.

In the dark, Castiel grabs Dean and just hugs him. No kissing, no grinding, just settling his body along the hunter’s with a contented purr.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you know?” Dean murmurs, his lips close to Castiel’s own but not enough to touch.

“I know… I wanted to.”

“But now you’ll be tired in the morning… hell, it’s already morning.”

“You’ll be tired too.”

“I don’t care.”

“Then I don’t care either.”

“If I ran off a cliff, would you follow me?”

“I would follow you anywhere but… why would you run off a cliff?” Castiel asks, a little alarmed. Dean is pretty sure that if he listened closely, he could even hear him frown.

“It’s just a saying, Cas. As in, it’s not because I do something that you gotta do the same.”

“Oh… you are referring to free will then?”

“Kinda…”

“So I guess waiting for you was a choice I made out of my own free will,” explains Castiel before kissing Dean soundly. “Now, we sleep,” he concludes, turning around and positioning himself as the little spoon.

“Good night, Cas,” Dean breathes in his friend’s neck, snaking an arm around his waist.

“Good night, Dean,” he hums back, holding on to the arm resting on his middle.

If it takes a bit longer than anticipated to fall asleep because they end up needing some release after all, then it’s certainly nobody’s business. All Dean knows is that it’s all Cas’ fault for grinding his ass against his dick, while if you ask Cas he’ll tell you it’s Dean who’s been rocking his erection between his butt cheeks.

Whatever… when they finally fall asleep it’s with a smile on their lips and a mess in their sheets.

~ ◊ ~

The kitchen is lively that morning when Dean and Castiel finally get up and join the others after a quick shower, erasing all traces of their nocturnal activities. They’re the last to join in and Dean is glad to see there’s still bacon and scrambled eggs to be eaten. But first, he grabs two coffee cups for Cas and himself.

“Awww,” is the general reaction when they see the hunter give a cup to the angel and kiss him on the cheek.

“Shut up,” he snaps back, but his smile counters any ill effect the words could have had.

“Daddy! Charlie is awesome,” Beth exclaims.

“I know, right? She’s my best friend,” Dean explains, winking at the redhead.

“So you’re Daddy. How does she call you, Cas?”

“Hum…”

“Daddy,” Beth answers for him.

“Isn’t that confusing?” Charlie asks the three of them.

“I don’t know… I’ve never… It hasn’t been this long…” sputters Dean.

“Yeah… I kind of figured that out when I was younger, when I realised I liked girls. Like, my girlfriend could be Mom but I’d be something else. Like Mama… you know? Well that’s when I thought I might want kids someday.”

“I called my foster mommies both Mama… Mama Kay and Mama Patty,” Beth explains, nodding excitedly.

“Oh… so do you call your daddies Daddy Dean and Daddy Cas?”

“Oh hell no,” Dean grumbles. “Daddy Cas sounds like Mama Cass… that’s just weird. And Daddy Dean is… just too many D’s.”

“You don’t want me to call you Daddy anymore?” Beth asks, her voice having gone up an octave – or three.

“No, of course honey, I do. But we could find different names for Cas and me, maybe? I just don’t like Daddy Dean so much. I’d rather be just Daddy, or Dad. What do you think, Cas?”

“Hum… I’m used to call my Father _Father_ but I think it is too formal when it comes to human customs, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… how do you feel about Papa? Or Pops?” Dean asks, cringing inwardly.

“Pops, I don’t like at all. I could live with Papa I guess. I do prefer Daddy, I was getting used to it I guess.”

“And what do you think, Beth?” Charlie asks the girl.

“I don’t know,” she replies nervously, if the chewing of her lower lip is anything to go by.

“I think that’s too big of a problem to tackle during breakfast, don’t you think?” Jody intervenes with a gentle smile. “I don’t think you need to decide this right now, am I right?” she asks again, addressing the fathers.

“Jody’s right. Let’s eat breakfast, all right? And if you want to call us both Daddy, then it’s fine by me. How ’bout you Cas?”

“As long as Beth is happy, I’m happy,” he replies, getting up to go and kiss her on the head and ruffle her hair.

“So guys, not that it’s not endearing and all that, but maybe we should talk shop. We still have Crowley in the dungeon and, well, we might want to use him at some point,” Sam starts, done with his own breakfast.

“We just need to make sure we got everything but yeah, we should do that later today,” Dean confirms.

“You know there’s still a chance Death will smite us even though Crowley’s the one summoning him, right?”

Castiel glances towards Beth then glares at Sam. He doesn’t feel they should be talking about this with her in the room. But of course, she has something to say about it all.

“He won’t kill you,” she offers before shovelling a humongous bite of eggs in her mouth.

“You saw the meeting happening? Is he going to help us with Metatron?” Castiel can’t refrain to ask.

“Hmmpff huifff mmm,” she tries to say, her mouth too full.

“Sweetheart, please wait until your mouth’s empty,” Jody softly chides her, knowing full well it won’t be either of her fathers who are going to instil the girl with good table manners.

“Sorry,” the girl apologizes when she has swallowed. “I saw him come but I don’t know what he says. I know that when he leaves, nobody is dead. Not even Crowley.”

“So you don’t know if he’s gonna help us?”

“Nah,” she says, shaking her head and biting on a piece of toast.

“Now all we have to hope is that Metatron isn’t messing around with her mojo,” Dean shrugs, pensive.

“There’s no way for us to know, sadly,” agrees Castiel, his eyes on their child.

“So, after breakfast guys? We go get Crowley and finish this?” Sam presses them.

“Well… what about the angels? Didn’t we want to get rid of them?” Dean asks, speaking as low as possible so the featherless squad won’t hear him.

“Let’s wait until we’ve talked with Death. If he can force Metatron to reopen Heaven, they won’t be a menace anymore. We’ll unbind them and they’ll be able to go home.”

“And what about you, Cas? You wanna go back home?” Dean asks, trying not to sound too affected by the idea.

“I can’t Dean. I keep telling you. I’m not an angel anymore, I’m human, and my place is here. With you,” he adds with a smile.

“Awww,” the room echoes once more.

“I said shut up,” Dean says again, unable to keep his lips from curling up. “But Cas, if you had the opportunity to be an angel again—”

“If you wish, we can discuss this later. But I promise, I don’t wish to leave you ever again,” Castiel tries to reassure him with the help of a tender kiss.

When they separate, Dean looks at their friends in the room and all he sees are gleeful smiles, even on his brother’s face. He’s not one to be embarrassed by much but that right there is making him pretty uncomfortable.

“All right,” he says, clearing his throat. “So yeah, let’s go see Crowley,” he continues, his voice suddenly a bit lower than usual, as if he felt the need to win back some man points.

“After breakfast, Dean. You’re not done yet, and neither am I,” Castiel sniggers before biting on a strip of bacon.

“Oh! Yeah, right! Breakfast,” Dean tries to smile, getting even more embarrassed.

Apparently, he’s become a blushing schoolgirl.

~ ◊ ~

“How kind of you boys to come and visit! Been a while! How much time now? A bloody week?” Crowley spits when the three men go back to the dungeon.

“Wow! You’re no King of Hell, you’re the Drama Queen of Hell,” Dean tells him while pouring some of their fancy Wild Turkey in a glass. “It’s been like a day and a half, you mooch,” he says, pushing the glass towards Crowley.

“Hard to tell as there’s no window and I have no watch,” the demon explains before downing the liquor and agitating the glass so he can get some more.

“So we got everything you need for summoning Death. How do you wanna do this?” Sam asks.

“Comfortably would be nice. My arse is asleep thanks to that horrendous chair,” he says, downing once more the content of the glass Dean had refilled.

“Sorry our digs aren’t to your liking, your Majesty. Any other requests?” Dean snides.

“Can you let me out of these sodding manacles so I can at least stand up?”

“We can use the neck contraption,” Sam suggests for Dean and Cas.

“You morons! There’s a bloody devil’s trap on the floor and another one on the ceiling… where the fuck do you think I can go?”

Dean looks at his brother and just shrugs while Castiel approaches the demon to free him from the cuffs. But before he let’s the demon go completely, he opens his shirt again to check the sigil he had drawn to see it mostly erased. Satisfied, Castiel unhooks the last cuff and walks backwards until he’s out of the devil’s trap.

“That’s the stuff,” Crowley moans loudly when he gets up, immediately stretching his limbs and attempting to crack pretty much anything that can be cracked, from his neck to his ankles. “Hey you think you could get a masseuse in here?” he asks, a single eyebrow quirked up. “Fine, forget it then,” he pouts when nobody responds.

“So, everything you requested is there,” Sam says, presenting the demon with a wicker box full of various herbs and knick-knacks. “I didn’t think you’d need magic to summon him.”

“This is not for summoning him, Moose. I can do that without all that rubbish. This here will insure I get a private line, shroud the call from Metatron.”

Dean looks at Castiel when he hears Crowley’s explanation, only to see if the angel is buying it. The former angel looks back at him and gives an almost imperceptible nod, making the hunter a bit more reassured. It wouldn’t be the first time the demon tried to pull some dirty trick on them.

It doesn’t take long for Crowley to complete his ritual and for the Horseman to appear in the dungeon. When he sees where the call has landed him, and with whom, Death rolls his eyes and sighs loudly.

“You again! I thought I told you not to summon me ever again,” he berates the three hunters, his lips pursed. “There’s gonna be Hell to pay and yes, I am being literal.”

The three men quickly point to Crowley, eyes wide in both fear and innocence.

“How nice,” the demon just comments, shaking his head. “Indeed, I was the one to summon you. I have a business proposal.”

“I don’t do _business_. Not with anyone and especially not with a woodlouse such as yourself.”

“Come on now with the name calling. Let’s have a seat, shall we? Boys?” Crowley asks, clearly expecting them to go fetch a chair somewhere.

“I won’t be here long enough to sit. Speak, demon.”

“Fine! Have you heard about your reapers recently?”

“I don’t need to… they know what they have to do.”

“The thing is, they’re not able to do their sodding job these days,” Crowley professes. “Heaven has been on lockdown for months now, bet you didn’t know that.”

“What did you do,” Death only comments, turning to Dean.

“What? Why me? I didn’t do squat,” Dean refutes, offended.

“It was I,” Castiel says. “Well, it was in fact Metatron but he used me in a spell to expel the angels from Heaven.”

“So you’re the one,” the Horseman observes, looking between him and Dean for a good minute. “And I take that you are—” Death starts again, his gaze fixated on Dean.

“Yeah! So? That’s not the problem right now.”

“Well, it kind of is if you ask me. But all right, what did you call me here for?”

“You said you would be the one reaping God. Can you reap Metatron?” Castiel asks.

“Of course I can. The only one that can’t be reaped is… well… myself.”

“Then will you do it?” Castiel asks again.

“And why would I do that? It is your mess to clean up, not mine.”

“How could we ever win against a God?” Sam supplies.

“He is no God, believe me,” the Horseman huffs in disdain.

“Well he’s God enough for us to be unable to get to him. He’s too powerful,” Dean objects.

“I have told you before how unimportant this all is to me, right?”

“Crowley, tell him what you told us about the reapers. How nobody can enter Heaven, the reapers going out of their minds over it all,” Sam says, wishing this would be enough to convince Death.

“Well, now that I think about it, I could just go in the veil and recruit myself some souls. You know… There’s no Heaven so what do you prefer, Hell or Limbo?”

“You son of a bitch! We’re never letting you out of here if that’s your plan,” Dean growls, giving into Crowley’s blatant provocation.

“You people and your dramas. Can’t you just live in tranquillity? Most worlds out there are just peaceful and quiet but you, you’re like the toddlers of the universe with your incessant tantrums. I swear, and I am not saying this lightly, you will be the death of me,” Death drops on them, looking even more tired than usual.

“So… what now?” Dean dares to ask after a moment, unsure of what the Horseman is telling them.

“I’ll help you, but only because my reapers can’t do their work properly. I wish I could just make this whole planet disappear. Consider yourselves lucky that this is not a decision I am permitted to make.”


	18. The Sacrificial Lamb

“Well, boys, I wish I could say it has been a pleasure, but I think we’re done here,” the King of Hell announces after the Horseman has disappeared.

“Not so fast! Metatron is still standing,” Dean warns him.

“Not my bloody concern. I said I would get Death involved, and I did. Now, release me.”

“Yeah, see… us? We didn’t sign no damn contract about that,” Dean explains.

“And we kind of promised someone you’d pay for what you’ve done to her,” Sam corroborates, imposing his tall frame well into the demon’s personal space.

“You must be referring to that delightful sheriff of yours. If it means anything to you, Moose, I would have been real sad to kill her. Honest.”

“Shut the hell up,” Sam spits, getting ready to pierce the demon’s heart with an angel blade.

“Before I do shut up, let me say this one thing, love. That contract you boys signed, about demons not touching the kid? Just take a moment to think about what would happen to that little piece of paper if I were to die.”

“Sam,” Castiel warns his friend.

“You’re bluffing,” Sam feels the need to say, even though he very well knows he isn’t.

“If that’s what you think, then by all means kill me,” the demon declares, challenging him with his arms wide on each side. “Come on, Moose! Plunge your weapon in my sturdy demon chest.”

“He told you to shut up,” Castiel barks before pushing Sam aside to open the demon’s shirt and draw the cancelling sigil on his chest.

The second the drawing is complete, the demon disappears from the room, leaving the three men frustrated at the thought that they had to let him go.

“He’ll be able to come back whenever he wants now, right? That thing on his chest, can he redraw it and waltz back in here whenever he wants?” Dean asks Castiel, his voice tinged with worry.

“No, I’ll include it in the wardings; it won’t work ever again.”

“Warding is complicated,” Dean mutters, glad they have Cas to take care of that shit.

“We’ll need to find another way next time, if there has to be a next time,” Castiel provides, wishing that will never need to happen.

“So guys, I’ll go talk to Jody okay? I kind of told her Crowley wouldn’t be leaving here alive and… I don’t know what to tell her now,” Sam says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t mind being blamed, Sam," Castiel offers, seeing the hunter’s nervous gesture. “It was I who drew the sigil on Crowley’s chest.”

“Come on, Cas. Like I would have chosen to risk Beth’s life.”

“No, I know you wouldn’t have. I’m only saying I don’t mind taking responsibility, if it helps.”

“Don’t worry about it. She’ll understand… pretty sure she will.” Sam tries to smile, grabbing Castiel’s shoulder to reassure him. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

Sam quickly disappears to go find Jody, leaving the two men to clean up the dungeon. They work in silence, still ruminating over the fact that the demon had eluded them once more. When they’re finished they exit the room, shutting the lights and closing the concealed doors behind them.

“I hope we won’t have to use that place again for a while,” says Castiel, holding the wicker box containing the remnants of Crowley’s spell.

“Aw, come on Cas. I remember you using the dungeon in a _very_ interesting way that one time,” replies Dean, bumping his shoulder with the ex-angel’s.

“I was dreaming, Dean.”

“Still… it looked like fun,” the hunter teases him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“It was…” has to admit Castiel. “But it wasn’t even close to being with you for real,” he confides, turning to kiss the corner of Dean’s lips.

“Guys! Cool it off… there’s a kid and a lesbian in the room,” Charlie mocks them as they enter the kitchen, still kissing.

“Charlie! Watch your mouth in front of our kid,” Dean replies, pointing a not so menacing finger at her.

“What did I say? Lesbian?”

“I know what a lesbian is. Mama Patty and Mama Kay—”

“Huh… of course, sorry. Carry on. Still, be smooth about it, yeah?” he requests, sending a pointed glare towards the redhead.

“I didn’t think that of all people you’d be the prudish one, Dean Winchester.”

“Cas, help me out here, won’t you?”

“Help you what? I do not feel Beth should be sheltered from things as trivial as this. We are, after all, in a homosexual relationship ourselves.”

“Man, don’t say it like that…” groans Dean.

“What? Homosexual relationship?” Castiel badgers him.

“Just shut up, would you?”

“You might wanna get used to hearing the words homosexual relationship. And saying the words homosexual relationship,” Charlie helpfully chants with a grin.

“Homosexual relationship,” squeals Beth before laughing wholeheartedly.

Which of course causes everyone to laugh with her, Dean included, even though he tried real hard at first to scowl at her.

“Yeah, all right… homosexual relationship,” he repeats, mocking Beth’s high pitched voice and rolling his eyes back into his skull. “I’ll get used to it,” he then promises, grabbing at Castiel’s nape to bring him closer and kiss him again on the lips.

“So if you guys can keep your hands off of each other for a second or two, I’d like to talk about what’s for lunch. Us girls are starving and I’d like to remind you that I’m a guest.”

“We’re not in Moondoor, Charlie. I’m not your handmaiden in here. If anything—”

“That’s not what you told your brother to tell me. So, handmaiden, the queen is requesting those famous hamburgers of yours for lunch,” Charlie smiles, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, okay, it’s not like we’ve had to deal with Crowley and the damn Horseman while you were here twiddling your thumbs, right?”

“I beg your pardon?” Charlie asks, falsely outraged. “The princess and I—”

“I’m a princess now,” Beth jumps in to gloat.

“The princess and I are famished and require sustenance,” Charlie continues, grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him to sit next to her. “And this newly knighted cutie needs some food too. So start cooking, handmaiden,” she concludes, waving a dismissive hand at him.

“I hate you all,” Dean grumbles, walking to the fridge to start preparing the food.

“No, you don’t,” the three people in the room reply before laughing again.

~ ◊ ~

“So… Jody was pissed,” Dean informs Castiel when he comes back to his room after spending some time with his brother.

“Did she terminate her relationship with Sam?” he asks, a worried frown on his face.

“No, but she did decide it was time for her to go back home.”

“She might be in danger, Dean.”

“What do you think? Sam told her, I told her… but we can’t keep her here against her will. Sam wanted to go with her but she refused.”

Dean’s tone is clipped, mirroring the stiffness of his movements. Castiel nods, mostly to himself, and gets off the bed to approach the hunter. Turns out the former angel is pretty fond of hugging which is quite all right with Dean, who’s a bit of a cuddle monster himself.

So he’s glad to feel Cas pressed against his back while he’s rummaging in his dresser, looking for something comfortable to sleep in. The shorter man’s hands quickly travel underneath his shirt, brushing softly on his skin, grazing the pad of his thumbs over his nipples while mouthing at the sensitive spot on his neck.

“Cas…” purrs Dean, letting go of the garments he’s found and instead grabbing handfuls of his lover’s ass, pulling him towards himself. “Hmm… okay,” he hums, tilting his head to give some room to Castiel’s mouth, enthralled by the sensations he gets from the man’s hands and lips on his skin.

When Castiel unbuttons Dean’s pants and shoves one hand inside his boxers, grabbing a hold of his half hard length, the hunter’s breath hitches. His hips buck automatically, pressing his ass against the ex-angel’s already hard dick.

“Did you start without me?” Dean has to ask, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I might have.”

“You little shit,” Dean groans, turning his head to capture his lips.

The hand in his pants is effective and soon, he’s just as hard as his partner. And he wants more. Fuck, does he ever!

“Clothes off… tired of jizzing my pants,” Dean says, turning around to start working on Castiel’s jeans.

He’s glad to see Cas following his lead and finish getting him out of his pants. Soon enough, they’re naked and making out, erections rutting against one another. Castiel soon gets on his knees and grabs Dean’s dick at the base, which by itself is almost too much for the hunter.

“Cas… you don’t have—” Dean tries to say, unconvincingly, licking his lips.

“I want to… I might not be good at it though,” he replies, his marvellous indigo eyes clouded by lust.

He too licks his lips before letting go of his tight grasp on Dean’s shaft, holding it softly to lick a first stripe on the underside and twirl his tongue over the head.

“God… shit, Cas,” Dean mewls when Castiel licks his dick once more before taking it in his mouth.

Castiel tries to remember what the prostitutes in Kansas City had done to him. It had looked easy enough and of course they both had been amazing, each in their own way. But he’s disappointed to find out it’s not as easy to reproduce. But if Dean’s moans and the hand trembling in his hair are anything to go by, he must be doing something right.

So he just relaxes and enjoys the weight in his mouth and the musky taste on his tongue, grasping at his hunter’s hips hard so he won’t buck in his mouth, soothing him by circling his thumbs on his skin.

“Teeth… Careful, Cas,” hisses Dean with a controlled jerk.

“Sorry," he apologizes after taking his mouth off him.

But Dean just nods and smiles, guiding his mouth to be on him again. Castiel gladly obliges and starts sucking and bobbing his head again, going as far as he can and doing his best not to gag.

Once in a while he takes his mouth off with a pop to lavish his balls with his tongue, tracing his tongue all over Dean’s dick again, teasing the slit. He’s very tempted to travel further down, passed the perineum, and lap at his puckered hole but he’s pretty sure the hunter isn’t entirely ready for that yet.

Instead he just takes the shaft back between his lips and bobs his head, using his fist on what his mouth can’t reach. Holly and Justin, as well as Internet porn, had showed him that much.

“Cas… that’s… oh god…” Dean sputters, both his hands clenched in his hair.

Delighted, Castiel hums around the dick in his mouth, making the body under his hands shiver. Dean seems to appreciate that, so he hums again, louder, a throatier moan, which is immediately reciprocated by his lover.

“Fuck… gimme…” Dean starts, grabbing the hand Castiel has been keeping on his hip and starts sucking on the fingers, coating them thoroughly in saliva. “Here,” Dean groans, guiding the slick fingers to his backside, pushing a digit against his hole.

This time it’s Castiel who trembles, delighted by the feeling under his wet middle finger, circling the quivering skin.

“Come on, Cas… I need…” begs Dean, impatient.

Delicately, Castiel pushes inside, delighted by the tight pulsing heat. His finger, long and lean, is slowly let in by Dean’s welcoming muscles. It doesn’t take long for Dean to emit a loud groan. Castiel himself lets out a gravelly whine as his mouth gets filled with the hunter’s warm nectar.

Filled might be a slight exaggeration, even though that’s what it feels like. The surprise makes him back off a little, causing some of Dean’s load to land on his chin. He thinks back to his encounter with both prostitutes and remembers they had put condoms on him so his seed had spilled into the latex contraptions. Unsure of what he should do now, Castiel simply decides to swallow.

“Sorry…” a breathless Dean croaks, moving to kneel before him.

He grabs the first t-shirt he finds on the floor and brings it up to Castiel’s face with the intention of wiping him clean. Instead, he kisses him soundly, tasting himself on his lover’s tongue, then licks a little swipe of his own come before cleaning off the rest with the shirt.

“I’d like to try and return the favour but…” Dean offers gravely, looking at his lover’s spent cock.

“I guess making you happy was enough for me,” he only breathes back while Dean mops Castiel’s juices clean from the floor.

“You know I’ll do this for you at some point, right?”

“I know… I’m not worried.” Castiel smiles. “So… how—” he starts, unsure how to ask what he wants to know.

“Good… t’was good, Cas. You’re awesome,” Dean says, grabbing his face to kiss him some more. “I’m just glad it wasn’t perfect.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Of course not… I wouldn’t wanna have to wonder how you got perfect at _that_ ,” he softly laughs before kissing him again, pressing his body onto the other man’s.

~ ◊ ~

Why it always has to be the middle of the night when stuff like that happens, nobody will ever know. But when an ear-splitting scream resonates in the bunker and wakes up all humans – and startles the angels – it doesn’t take long for Dean and Castiel to run to where it had originated.

“Beth,” Dean calls, running into the room with Castiel on his heels.

The little girl had stopped screaming but only because she was now having problems breathing. Charlie turns on the light the men hadn’t bothered with when they came in but stays in the doorframe. Sam stays outside as well, standing behind the redhead with his hands on her shoulders, as much for her comfort as his own.

“Beth, honey,” Dean says again, his hand settled on her chest, shaking her slightly. “Please breathe, baby girl.”

Noticing the sweat on the kid’s forehead, Castiel snatches the covers and throws them at the foot of the bed. They could feel them before but now they can _see_ the tremors. She’s convulsing.

“Sam, go get Penny! We need Augusta,” Dean implores his brother who has already left to get the angel.

“Dean… She can’t die…”

“She won’t die. Even if she does, we’ve got angels here, we’ll unbind them and they’ll bring her back, all right? But she won’t die, I promise you,” Dean babbles in a low voice, trying his best to alleviate his and Castiel’s fears.

Beth is still convulsing and has difficulties breathing, gulping in air like a fish out of water, eyes wide open but unfocused. Then it all stops, and it is so sudden that it looks like the life gets sucked out of her all at once. A choked sob erupts from Castiel but Dean is quick to reassure him once again.

“She’s not dead, Cas. I can feel her heart beating, and she’s breathing normally now,” he explains to him, nodding to his hand still resting on her chest.

“Thank you, Father,” the ex-angel breathes, taking one of the girl’s hands in his to give it a gentle kiss. “What’s happening to her, Dean?”

“I don’t know, buddy. I wish I could tell you.”

“What happened?” they hear Penny ask as she enters the room and comes to sit next to the child.

“I don’t know,” starts Dean. “You heard her scream, right? We came here, she was shaking and had problems breathing. Like those kids, you know, when they fall and just squirm all over.”

“Epilepsy? I don’t think that was it, Dean,” offers Sam from the hall, brows knitted in concern.

“I’m not saying it is. Just saying it looked like it.”

“Did she say anything? Maybe she was having a vision,” the angel prods, looking at both fathers in turn.

“She hasn’t said a word since we’ve been here,” replies Castiel, still holding Beth’s hand.

“She seems to be sleeping now,” Penemue says, brushing her palm on the kid’s forehead. “Maybe she has a bit of fever, you might want to check into that.”

“What if she starts convulsing and stops breathing again?” Dean inquires, his voice showing a hint of impatience at the answers they’re not getting.

“Augusta was a nurse, not a doctor,” the angel explains to the hunter, as calmly as possible. “I would suggest that you bring her to a hospital if it happens again,” she concludes before excusing herself out of the room.

Both Dean and Cas barely acknowledge her departure, unable to let their gazes wander off the now mostly stable child. They hardly even notice Sam putting a thermometer in Beth’s mouth, which comes back normal, with no sign of fever.

“You guys can go back to sleep, I’ll stay here,” Dean says, sitting on the floor next to the bed keeping one of the girl’s hand in his.

“I’m staying too,” adds Castiel resolutely, mirroring Dean’s position on the other side of the bed.

“Do you guys need anything?” Charlie inquires, her brows furrowed.

“I think we’re good, thanks. Go to sleep, Charlie. You too, Sam. We’ll see you both later,” Dean says, offering them a tired smile.

“All right. If you need anything, just wake me up,” Sam offers before shutting off the light and exiting the room with Charlie following close behind.

“Why do you think this keeps happening to her?” Dean asks in a low voice after a while, wishing they could make her sufferings stop.

“I don’t know. But I’m starting to think that there’s a reason that this had never been done before. The human body just might not be strong enough to hold an Oracle. Especially not that of a child.”

“Well… if we believe that thing about Gabriel being her creator or something, wouldn’t that mean she’s stronger than most?” the hunter tries to justify, refusing to think this whole thing might be killing her.

“I don’t know, Dean… it’s only an assumption, there’s no way to know if it really was Gabriel’s doing. It does make sense but Oracles can sometimes be rather… vague.”

“So you’re not so fluent in Oracle speak after all?” Dean teases, huffing a humourless laugh.

“Nobody is…” Castiel can only answer, his eyes on their child.

~ ◊ ~

As a trained hunter, Dean wakes up the second Beth’s hand slips from his. He’s immediately on alert, wondering where the child has gone. He’s glad to see her still on the bed, but she’s not sleeping anymore. Instead she is sitting, her soft features bathed in the dim yellow light seeping in from the hall.

Dean should be glad to see that she appears to be calm, especially after the intense ordeal from before. But he can’t find anything about her demeanour to be relieving in the slightest. Her stance is pretty stiff and her eyes are open, but her gaze is vague. And now that he’s looking at her a bit more intently, he can see her bottom lip is trembling.

“Beth? Honey? Are you all right?” he asks in a hushed voice, not wanting to startle her.

“It’s coming,” she responds in a scratchy voice.

“What? What’s coming?”

“The end… I don’t wanna die, Daddy.”

“Of course you won’t, baby girl. Me, and Cas, and Sam, we’ll protect you. You know that,” Dean tries to soothe her even if he has trouble believing it himself after hearing his child’s words.

She finally turns to him, boring her golden eyes into his green ones. Even in the obscured room, they’re shining as if she was harbouring some unfathomable power. Which kind of reminds him that she is, in fact, a supernatural being.

“I can’t see anything after today. I don’t know how it ends. It feels like there’s no life left in the world,” Beth solemnly announces with tremors in her voice.

“I think that’s just Metatron playing tricks on you, honey. I’m sure he’s making you see things that are untrue just to scare you.”

Dean has to try and smile, even though he knows the false joy could never reach his eyes. In his gaze lies something closer to fury at the thought of the pseudo-god dicking around in his girl’s brain.

“Metatron is dead, Daddy,” she announces, turning once more to face forward.

It feels like all the oxygen leaves the room at once Dean is so shocked by the news, even though he knew very well Death had said he’d take care of him. But then again, that could be Metatron’s trick, make them believe he’s gone and just be waiting somewhere in the shadows to kill them all.

“Cas?” he calls, needing him to participate in this, whatever it is. “Cas,” he says again louder, only hoping the guy’s not having sexy dreams again because, seriously… not the best place or moment.

“What?” the former angel eventually mumbles, waking up with some difficulties. _“He’s gonna have to learn to be much more alert if he’s going to be a hunter,”_ flatly observes Dean, and then shakes the thought away. They have more pressing matters.

“Beth is awake. She says Metatron’s dead,” Dean only says, keeping his eyes on the girl.

“Oh, Beth! Is that what made you so upset earlier?” Castiel asks, getting up on his knees to go and cup her cheek with his hand.

“You can’t send the angels away,” she says without answering. “You’ll need them.”

“Why? What’s gonna happen?” Dean asks, thinking they need a damn good reason to keep those time bombs in the bunker.

“I don’t know. All I know is that they have to stay.”

“Beth, you’re scaring us,” murmurs Castiel.

“All will unfold. Hard times are to come but if you keep your minds open, everything wrong shall be right once more. Fighting your purpose will only lead to the death of thousands.”

“The child is right,” says a new voice in the room.

Both men are on their feet instantly, guarding the little girl with their bodies even though they have no weapons to defend themselves. When he sees who has manifested in the room, Dean lets out a relieved breath when he remembers who, or rather what, the woman is. And if he’s seeing her, that means…

“Tessa…” he says, needing to confirm her identity at least to his own self.

“Hey Dean. Don’t worry, I’m not here for that,” she reassures him, taking a step forward.

“Who is she, Dean?” Castiel asks, instinctively stepping in front of Dean to try and protect him as well.

“A reaper… we go way back,” Dean huffs, a bit annoyed, stepping away from Castiel’s shielding body.

“What do you want?” prods Castiel, not relieved in the slightest to know what she is.

“I’m here to help you. Death got rid of Metatron but Heaven is still on lockdown. Before killing the angel, Death was able to get the counter spell from him and I’m bringing it to you,” she explains with a smile.

“And Death’s okay with that?” Dean has to ask.

“As long as we don’t try to involve him,” she smirks. “And no worries, he knows I’m here. I requested that the reapers be at your disposal, should you ever need us. He accepted,” she continues, keeping her attention mostly on the Winchester.

“You’re not corporeal, are you?” observes Castiel, eyes squinted.

“Indeed, I am not. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No… it was merely an observation.”

“Don’t worry, Castiel. I can still be useful,” Tessa provides. “So, do you accept my help?”

“You said you had that spell to open Heaven? I’d say that’s a nice trade. What do you think, Cas?”

“I would agree. And Dean seems to trust you enough.”

“What do you say we go talk in my room?” Dean offers, eyeing the sleeping child. “She’s had a rough night, I wouldn’t want her to wake up again.”

Without waiting for either Castiel or Tessa to answer, Dean leaves the girl’s room to reach his own. Cas is following him but the reaper just manifests there, sitting in the chair. On the bed is now a piece of yellowed parchment with writings that are indecipherable to Dean.

“Enochian,” explains Castiel, seeing Dean’s puzzled look.

“Yeah, thought so. So that’s the spell?” Dean asks Tessa grumpily. “You didn’t have it in English?”

“Sorry, Dean… but at this point you should have at least tried to learn it, don’t you think?”

“Tongues are not my forte. Or, they are, but not in a way that’s going to help us here,” he responds with a sly grin.

“No,” Castiel spits, reading the formula. “It can’t work, we can’t do this,” he adds, tearing the paper in half.

“Cas,” Dean yelps.

Castiel is able to tear the pieces a couple of more times before Dean is on him, grabbing the scraps from his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing, man? Are you crazy?”

“The spell is no good, Dean! Heaven will never open again.”

The former angel is shaking, which pretty much convinces Dean he knows what’s on that piece of paper.

“Sam was right then? It has to do with me? With my soul?” Dean asks in what he hopes in a calm enough voice. Because he too is freaking out a bit, but Cas can’t know that.

“It does, if indeed you are the one Castiel loves,” confirms Tessa after a while, seeing that Castiel is refusing to answer. “It is one of the three ingredients.”

“What are the other two? Do we need another _nephthingy_ and a cupid’s bow?”

“No… different ingredients. Which is a blessing because nephilims are extinct. Castiel here has successfully eliminated the last one.”

Castiel sends a dark scowl towards the reaper but she’s right, so he’s certainly not going to fight her on this. He’d love to be able to fight her on informing the hunter of the spell’s ingredients though. Still, he doesn’t.

“So, what do we need?” Dean asks.

“Pan’s flute, the blood of an angel… and your soul,” recites Tessa, impassive.

“Pan’s flute? How does that make any sense? It’s not even—” Dean responds, confused as to why something that has nothing to do with angels would be part of the ritual.

“Must have to do with calling the flock back home,” Tessa shrugs, unfazed. She certainly isn’t one to wonder about something so insignificant.

“Where the hell are we going to find that?” asks Dean, hoping it’d actually be so far that they could ask the reaper or an angel to do a little travelling for them.

Not that he’s ever been one to decline any occasion to do some Indiana Jones type of work, but time is of the essence and, well, he can’t very well go out and die now, can he?

“It’s here, Dean,” replies Castiel in a low voice, hating himself for even saying anything. “Sam and I came across it some months ago while doing the inventory.”

“So there you go! We got the flute, we got angels, we got me…” Dean details, knowing full well he isn’t as confident as he tries to appear.

“I’m not letting you die,” growls Castiel. “Not now, and not ever.”

“His death could only be temporary, just until the doors are open,” Tessa offers, a sympathetic look on her face.

“My own grace burned up in the process of closing the gates. Are you trying to make me believe Dean’s soul will stay intact when the spell is cast to reopen them?”

Castiel is asking but he doesn’t believe for one minute it could happen that way. The spell will obliterate Dean’s soul. He will cease to exist, he won’t be waiting for him in Heaven for when his own time comes. If he ever gets to go back, that is.

“Of course, we can’t be sure,” the dark haired woman complies, as she is not a deceiving one.

“Then, it’s not a possibility. If this is the key, then the door shall stay locked forever.”

“Cas—” tries Dean.

“No! I don’t even want to talk about it. You’ve given enough as it is. The angels will have to acclimate to living on Earth. And if they don’t, then we’ll kill every last one of them.”

As per his usual self, Castiel talks in a somewhat levelled manner, but it’s all for show and Dean knows it. He sees the slight tremors in his lover’s body, he hears the faint shift in his inflexion when he speaks. The ex-angel is on edge and just about to break.

“I think you guys have many things to discuss. I’ll just go. I believe you know how to call upon me if I am needed?” confirms Tessa, disappearing the minute Castiel gives her a short nod.

“Cas, please, listen to me—” starts to plead Dean as soon as they’re alone, knowing it might be close to impossible to make his lover understand, but he needs to try anyway.

“No! Unless it’s to tell me you aren’t willing to sacrifice yourself, I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

Castiel’s features are closed off and his whole body is so rigid that if he didn’t know any better, Dean could have sworn he was an angel again.

“Okay. Then let’s just go to bed, all right?” Dean tries, bringing a hand up to grab his the other man’s arm.

“Don’t…” Castiel spits, flinching.

He turns around and flees the room, leaving a bewildered Dean behind. When he hears a door slam shut, the hunter takes a peek in the hall and notices that Beth’s door is still wide open. It means the ex-angel has decided to go sleep in his own room instead.

“Fuck,” Dean barks, letting out a shaky breath and lying down alone on his bed.

~ ◊ ~

“I agree with Cas, Dean. We’ll find something else,” Sam says during breakfast after Dean has recounted Tessa’s visit.

His tone is one of those Dean hates the most. It’s careful yet commanding, as if he knew all along what there was to know about the situation. Dean has spent the night mulling over it all and he feels he’s best suited to make any kind of decision. It’s his own damn soul after all.

“You know we won’t, Sammy. If that’s the spell, then that’s what it is. You know how it goes. And Tessa thinks I could be brought back once the door’s open.”

“You told me even _she_ ’s not sure.”

“So?”

“Since when are you all gung-ho on helping the angels, Dean? You didn’t even wanna hear about them after the Fall,” Sam grills his brother, intended on questioning his motivations, if not his sanity.

“Can’t a guy change his mind?” Dean chooses to say, making sure his gaze stays on his breakfast.

“No, not this way. What are you not telling me?”

Even though the face Sam presents his brother is his usual pinched and offended one, there’s also that layer of evident concern present in his eyes. He certainly would like to knock some sense into his older brother but to do that, he needs to know what he’s up against.

“All will unfold. Hard times are to come but if you keep your minds open, everything wrong shall be right once more. Fighting your purpose will only lead to the death of thousands,” Dean eventually recites to his brother, surprising even himself to find that he remembers every single word.

“What’s that?”

“Beth’s latest prophecy. She also said she can’t see beyond today, Sam. I think she’s gonna die if we don’t do something,” Dean explains, his hands clasped on the mug in front of him.

“We can’t be sure that’s what—”

“I can’t take the chance, Sam. If the angels get to go back to Heaven, they’ll leave us alone. And there’ll be no battle with the demons. She’ll survive.”

“You really think that? God’s a no-show, Metatron’s dead… pretty sure that this Sandalphon guy wants to rule Heaven now that Metatron’s gone. He’ll still want the Oracle.”

“Then we’ll kill him…” Dean says, gruff and unyielding.

“And then there’ll be another one. Dean, you dying might not change a thing in the long run.”

“I can’t stay here and do nothing.”

Sam is trying his very best to stay calm and composed. But what’s boiling in the pit of his stomach is pure rage. He can’t believe they’re back here again, one of them having to talk the other out of offering themselves as tribute.

“Killing yourself is _not_ doing something, Dean.”

“I can’t kill myself, I’d go to Hell…” Dean mutters, always hoping to get the last word in.

“Nobody here’s gonna help you die, you know that, right?”

“Heh… ’m sure enough people out there wouldn’t mind helping out with that.”

“Not if they wanna stay alive, they won’t,” Sam snaps at his brother. “I thought we were done on that self-sacrificial shit. Last year you begged me not to complete the trials because I’d be dying. Now you want me to let _you_ die? You’re the ultimate hypocrite, Dean!”

“But Beth—”

“Yeah, exactly, Beth! How can you even think of dying when you got a child to take care of? Did you even stop to think of how devastated she’ll be?”

“She’s got Cas,” the hunter semi apologizes.

Of course he had thought of the girl. But between his own life and hers, the choice is an easy one to make. He wishes his brother could understand that already.

“So? You know she loves you, right? And what about Cas? You guys just… you know… got together or whatever.”

“They both can live without me. And the world will be much safer with all the feather brains back upstairs.”

“Could you live without them?”

“I don’t think so, but I don’t deserve them. They can only upgrade at this point,” Dean responds with a smile even though, in his heart, the idea of them deserving better is true and dark.

“Come on, man. They love you and need you. Same thing for me, you’re my big brother. I can’t watch you die again, I’ve seen it too many times.”

“Aw, come on, Sammy. When it’s all done with you can leave here, go to Sioux Falls and marry Jody, go back to school. Even Cas could move there and get settled down with Beth. He could meet some sweet girl, or guy, and be happy,” Dean is able to say without his voice faltering too much. That’s how determined he is. “Without me, you’d all have better lives. I’m only dragging you down, man,” he feels the need to add, punching his brother’s shoulder with controlled force.

“What’s the matter with you?” blurts Sam, throwing his hands in the air. “Were you brainwashed or something?”

“Of everyone, I thought you’d be the most understanding.”

“How could I be understanding this? You were the one to convince me that closing up Hell wasn’t reason enough to die. What you want to do is… irrational.”

“Look… I believe Tessa when she says that I can be brought back,” Dean tries to reassure his brother, his features open and serene.

“She’s. Not. Sure,” Sam yells, not caring anymore that they might alert the angels to their squabble.

“It’s not a definite no, then. Plus, we have four angels at our disposal to bring me back if needed.”

“You know you have suicidal tendencies, right?”

“Nah… I don’t wanna die, Sammy. What I want is for my kid to live. I want her to be able to go play outside. Have friends. Have a somewhat normal life.”

“She’s an Oracle, Dean… even with you dead, it won’t ever happen,” Sam counters, rocking the most saddest puppy dog eyes Dean has ever seen on his brother.

“I guess we’ll have to see about that then,” a resolute Dean answers him, not letting himself fall for one of his brother’s blatant attempt at emotional blackmail. Not this time…


	19. A Winchester Vacation

“Metatron is dead but Heaven is still locked,” a muffled voice resonates from Sandalphon’s phone speaker.

“Are you certain?”

“Death himself took care of it. He was able to obtain quite important information in the process.”

“Pertaining to what?”

“The Winchesters now have the spell, Sandalphon,” the voice continues.

“What does it consist of?”

“Pan’s flute, blood of an angel and Dean Winchester’s soul.”

“Are they intending on completing the ritual?”

“From what I heard, the humans are against sacrificing the Righteous Man. But he himself is very much intended on doing it.”

“As long as they don’t locate Pan’s flute, we have nothing to fear. I will send—”

“They have the flute. Apparently it was already a property of the Men of Letters. And they have angels for blood,” the traitor’s voice cuts him off, the tone impatient.

“How much blood do they need?”

“I don’t know. But if it is like the Nephilim, I would say the angel will have to die.”

“Would they have to unbind you to do that?”

“I am not sure. They do not seem eager to do that. Not until they make us leave.”

“If they decide to do the spell, I would imagine they will need an unbound angel’s blood.”

“Let us pray they do.”

“You know of your mission but you probably can assume what else I now require from you.”

“Dean Winchester and the flute?”

“You think you can manage that?”

“The second I am unbound.”

“Make me proud, child!”

Sandalphon presses the button to hang-up on his interlocutor. He can’t let those stupid mud monkeys complete the ritual. It is still too early for the angels to regain access to Heaven. There’s a battle to be fought, demons to be eliminated, and a King to be dethroned.

As future ruler of Heaven, the angel needs to be able to control Hell too. He’s hoping that winning the war against the abominations will help them recognize how he is to be their rightful leader. Not Crowley, not Abaddon, not Lucifer, and certainly not God.

But of course, he won’t himself be spending his time in Hell, he’ll have to delegate. Xaphan had been with him for millennia, was his partner, but then he had to go and lose something as precious as Sam Winchester. Not having someone on the inside with the Winchesters, he probably would have spared his old friend.

He’s hoping his informant will be able to deliver the goods, as promised. If so, Sandalphon will reward them with a place at his side when taking possession of the heavenly throne.

~ ◊ ~

“Cas…” Dean calls softly, knocking on the ex-angel’s door.

He hasn’t come out of his room since their spat the night before and Dean feels a little – okay, a lot more than a little – bad about it all. Of course, he understands how his willingness to die to open up Heaven would not be sitting well with the angel. He himself would probably want to beat some sense into him if the situation was reversed.

But it isn’t reversed, and all he wants now is try to make everyone understand, especially Castiel. But nobody understands. Right now Sam is pissed at him, as is Charlie, and Cas probably would love to still have his grace to beat the crap out of him like he did in the alley that one time. He’s still pretty strong, but Cas wouldn’t be able to throw him around like he once was able to do.

“Come on, Cas. Open the door,” he tries again, knocking some more.

“Go away,” he finally hears Castiel say from inside the room.

“Let’s talk, all right? Let me in, buddy.”

“I’m not your _buddy_ , buddy,” Castiel spits when he suddenly opens the door. “I’m your _lover_ , Dean. Your partner. Not your friend, and not your buddy.”

“Okay, sorry ma… hum… Cas,” Dean sputters when he hears Castiel growl at his attempt of addressing him as _man_.

“Do you still intend on doing the spell?”

“Look, Cas—”

“Answer my question,” Castiel insists, his eyes a blue fire.

“If I don’t, Beth might die. You heard that, right?” Dean pleads, hoping Cas can understand why he’s willing to die.

“But you dying, that’s okay?” Castiel asks, head tilted and incomprehension heavy on his features.

Dean is somehow reminded of the first time he met the angel in that barn. How Cas had looked at him as if he was the most intriguing, yet insignificant, of creatures.

“Better me than her. Wouldn’t you sacrifice your life for hers?”

“I would. But it is uncertain she will die,” Cas tries to argue, his fists clenched on either side of his body.

“As it’s uncertain I’ll stay dead. Tessa said—”

“Tessa doesn’t know, Dean! You don’t know! I don’t know,” Castiel all but screams, his eyes wide in sheer dismay.

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s gonna work out, but I have to do this,” Dean attempts to console him, taking a step forward.

“No, you don’t,” Castiel argues again, taking a step back. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll do whatever you want. So until you come to your senses, I don’t want to have anything to do with you,” he says again, the words low in his breath.

“We live together, Cas…” Dean says around the lump in his throat.

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“Beth will be devastated.”

Dean hates that he feels the need to try and to use emotional blackmail on Cas. Except right now, he’s close to desperate. Not only does he want his lover to understand what it is he’s trying to do, but he wants his blessing as well.

“Don’t be a jackass and she won’t be,” Castiel answers back, visibly unfazed by Dean’s endeavours.

The door gets slammed in Dean’s face and he stares at it, dumbfounded. He can feel his anger bubbling up, not sure what it is he’s angry about. Is it himself? Is it Cas? Is it the universe for always making sure he gets screwed the minute anything not so shitty happens to him?

His mind is devoid of thoughts when he bangs his fist on the thick wooden door, which only results in hurting his hand and making Cas yell at him to go away. He’s about to do just that when he catches a movement in the corner of his eye. He turns to see Beth looking at him wistfully, clutching at Sam’s plush moose.

_“So much for not being a jackass,”_ he thinks before going to crouch in front of her, his heart getting heavier by the second.

“Hey, honey. How are you doing?” he asks softly, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear.

“What did Daddy do? Why are you mad?” she asks him instead, her golden eyes swimming in tears.

“He didn’t do anything. I was frustrated and I took it out on Daddy’s door,” Dean says with a shrug, giving her what he hopes looks enough like an apolog

“So you don’t hate him?”

“Of course not, baby girl. I could never hate him. We’re arguing right now but it’ll get better, I promise.

“It’s about you going to Heaven, right?” she asks, tilting her head just the way Cas always does.

Dean’s heart sinks in his stomach at the sight, and at his daughter’s words.

“What do you know about that?” Dean asks again in a soft voice, hoping she’ll understand the underlying question.

“I know you think you’ll come back,” she confides, her chin trembling.

“Will I?”

“I don’t know…” the girl can only say before the tears start falling on her cheeks.

“Aw, honey. All right, come on. Let’s not think about that right now, okay? Are you hungry?” he asks, taking her in his arms and making his way towards the kitchen.

She doesn’t answer but she nods, sniffling, her face buried in his chest. He can’t avoid smiling a little when her nodding also feels like she’s rubbing her runny nose on his shirt. It reminds him when Sam would do the same thing as a kid, except back then Dean would be throwing a major bitch fit about it.

Maybe it was all kids that did this and not just his kid brother trying to be a little shit by covering him in snot.

In the kitchen he finds Sam and Charlie talking in hushed tones. The moment they see the hunter and child, they stop talking and are suddenly engrossed by the content of their mugs.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Dean quips, sitting Beth next to Sam on the bench.

It doesn’t even take a second for the kid to climb on her uncle and grab at him like she was doing her father just before.

“Yeah, she knows,” Dean says when he catches his brother’s quizzical look.

“Why would you tell her, Dean?” Charlie yelps, a horrified look on her face.

“She’s an Oracle, Charlie. I didn’t say shit,” groans Dean, fed up with everyone assuming he could be sharing such morbid details with a six-year-old kid.

“What did she say? Do you come back if you do it?” Sam asks, softly stroking the kid’s back.

“She doesn’t know… doesn’t change anything though. What do you wanna eat, honey?” Dean asks his child, not trying to hide the fact that he’s using her as a diversion and not even feeling bad about it.

Beth stays glued to her uncle and only shrugs at her father’s question.

“I brought my own Nutella because I know these guys never buy any. Would you like some?” Charlie asks, her tone cheery again, mostly for the child’s sake.

“Nutella?” Beth says, slowly turning her face to look at the redhead.

“Uhuh! Do you like that?”

“Oh yes,” Beth confirms, nodding energetically.

“I make the best Nutella toasts in the whole country. Want me to make some for you?” Charlie asks again, getting up from the bench.

“Please, Charlie,” Beth grins.

“Are you okay here with Charlie and Sammy while I go take a shower, Beth?” Dean asks the girl, glad to see her mood improve a little.

“Yes…” she nods without looking at him, transfixed by the familiar brown and white jug Charlie has grabbed from the pantry.

“All right. See you in a bit,” he smiles, mouthing a thank you to his ginger friend before leaving the room.

~ ◊ ~

“So what do we do now?”

The four angels are sitting in the library, as they usually do. Even though sometimes they like to take little strolls through the bunker, especially now that they pretty much don’t have anything to research anymore.

When Sariel and Orifiel had heard the men’s conversation with the reaper on the previous night, they of course had ran back to Penemue and Ambriel to tell them all that they had heard. They finally had a way to go back home.

And to make things even better, Dean seemed willing to give up his life so it could happen.

“I think we should talk to the Winchesters and tell them that we know,” Ambriel says, answering Orifiel’s question.

“You all know what this means, right? If they do the ritual?” Penemue asks.

“It means we go back home,” Sariel responds, a rare smile on his features.

“It also means one of us will most certainly have to die for the cause,” Penemue explains. “The blood of an angel?”

“If it has to be, then so be it,” Orifiel observes. “I am ready to offer myself.”

“It might not be necessary, Orifiel,” Penemue contradicts him gently. “Sandalphon is an angel. Using him would solve two problems at once.”

“There is no way the hunters, or us, could ever get close enough to him. His followers will protect him at all cost, you know that,” Sariel interjects, remembering all too well the last time they had confronted Sandalphon’s faction and the friends they had lost.

“Many things can be done, brother. He can be summoned, and then bound. The Winchesters know how to achieve that,” Penny explains.

“But I doubt Sam or Castiel will let Dean die,” Ambriel muses.

“We can promise to bring him back. We’re angels. All we have to do is pluck him from Heaven and bring him back into his body,” Penemue tells them with a satisfied nod.

“My grace was destroyed in the process, Penemue. Dean’s soul will be unsalvageable,” Castiel explains in a harsh tone, standing in the library’s opening.

The sudden presence of the man in the room makes the angels flinch, but it’s too late now. It wouldn’t help anyone to try and hide the fact that they know all about what’s happening.

“We don’t know that, Castiel. A soul is different than a grace,” Penemue offers in a confident tone.

“How so? Please explain because I’m about to lose the man I love.”

“Castiel, you should know the difference. You _were_ an angel,” she chides him, unnerved.

“I was… still, why don’t you believe the same thing would happen to his soul?” Castiel insists.

“I’m certain his soul has to _enter_ Heaven, Castiel. How could it ever get in if it were to be destroyed?”

Castiel blinks numerous times, trying to make his tired and stubborn brain digest Penemue’s explanation. Finally, he sits on one of the wooden chairs and lets out the breath he feels he’s been holding for days now.

“Are you certain that’s how it works?” he asks after a while.

“Castiel, we can’t be certain of anything, but it does make sense that this is how it shall happen.”

“And will it be possible to bring Dean back once the doors are open?”

The hope in Castiel’s voice is thick, undeniable.

“I am hoping it would be, yes.”

“Could it close the doors back up again?” asks Orifiel, only now finding he has something to say about the whole thing.

“Maybe,” can only answer Penemue.

“So if we do the spell then bring back Dean, we could just be spit out once more?” Orifiel presses, his large dark frame erected on his seat.

“There’s no way for us to know, Orifiel,” comments Penemue, impatience seeping through her usually tranquil demeanour.

“Then why would we bring him back?” Sariel asks, challenging. “Why risk it?”

“Because I don’t want him dead,” Castiel growls at the young Latino angel.

“I was ready to offer myself as sacrifice, Castiel. How about you?” Orifiel inquires, his tone less a judging one than the words would imply. “Don’t you feel like you should sacrifice something in atonement? It is you who made us fall, brother,” Orifiel concludes, huffing in contempt.

“Dean is not mine to sacrifice,” Castiel barks, ready to jump on the angel he had been helping and claw at his condescending face.

“Indeed. I’m not!”

In the library’s entryway are standing the brothers, Charlie, and Beth, eyeing the group carefully. Soon enough, everyone but Dean walks in and they go sit next to Castiel, aware that he’s in dire need of their support. Beth sits on Castiel’s lap, her hands clasped together on the table

Dean stays standing where he is, his arms crossed over his chest.

“So I take that you guys know about the spell? I won’t ask you how you know… you’re angels, you’re sneaky bastards,” Dean admonishes the angelic group, making sure to make eye contact with each and every one of them.

“We don’t have much to do now that there’s nothing to research, so we take strolls through the bunker. Orifiel and I heard you talking to that reaper,” Sariel still feels the need to explain.

“I don’t care. It’ll only make this talk even shorter, which is good,” Dean replies with a humourless laugh. “So, you know everything. We got the flute, we got you guys and we got me. Who’s it gonna be? Which one of you are we going to exsanguinate?” the hunter scoffs, hiding his nervousness behind an overly smug smile.

“None of us. We thought you’d want to use Sandalphon instead,” Penemue replies with a thin lipped smile.

“That’s a swell idea. Let’s just do that and eliminate a whole army of angels to get to him.” Dean says, not even caring that the angel crew might not pick-up on his sarcastic tone.

“He can be summoned… and bound,” Ambriel explains in a calming voice.

“How about Dean? Can you bring him back once the doors are open?” Sam asks.

“Most probably, yes,” answers Penemue with a soft smile.

“Not good enough,” Sam spits, glaring at his brother.

“It’s all we can do,” she intones.

“How about your friend Tessa?” suggests Charlie. “You said she’s a reaper… can’t she just go and grab Dean’s soul after it’s done?”

“Reapers don’t have more power than we – than the angels – do in Heaven. They have less, actually. They rule over the veil but once the soul has reached its destination, they can’t do anything about it,” a patient Castiel explains, needing to make sure that everyone knows that Tessa is not an option they can rely on.

“So she lied?” Charlie asks, deflated.

“She never said she could bring him back. She only said it might be possible to get him once the doors are open. But it is all uncertainties,” Castiel confirms, trying his best to work around the fast growing lump in his throat.

“And even if it _is_ possible, nothing says that Heaven won’t close back up once Dean’s soul is returned to Earth,” Orifiel spits, very much unhappy to see that nobody seems to be considering that possibility. “How is that man so important that we’d sacrifice a whole species? It is only one man,” he continues, not concerning himself about the possibility of breaking the heart of the child sitting in the room with them.

“He’s not _only one man_ ,” Castiel gasps. “He is the Righteous Man. He is Michael’s true vessel.”

“Michael is in Hell with Lucifer, he can’t use his true vessel anymore. Those are the words of desperation, Castiel.”

“So what? I am desperately in love with this man and I do not wish to see him disappear. If he insists on offering himself to Heaven’s cause and there’s the slightest chance for me to get him back, then I’ll take it. Even if it means the angels are to fall again.”

Nobody dares respond to Castiel’s teary-eyed tirade. Only Beth has moved, turning around to grab her father and hug him, hiding her face in his neck.

“Cas—” Dean starts after a while, unnerved by the uncomfortable silence that has fallen on the room.

“Shut up!”

“I just—”

“I said shut up! You don’t get to talk to me. I know I can’t stop you unless I put you in chains or lock you up somewhere. And I won’t do that. I am not your maker, nor am I here to tell you what to do and how to do it. My only hope is to be lucky enough to see you again one day.”

Castiel gets up, letting Beth sit on the chair by herself, and exits the room, making sure he walks the furthest possible from Dean. The hunter doesn’t move or watch him go, keeping his eyes on the wall far in front of him.

“Dean—” Sam starts.

“So, what’s the plan?” Dean asks the angels, efficiently cutting his brother off.

“We need to summon Sandalphon,” Penemue starts, glad to see the hunter focusing on the real issues at hand instead of dwelling on those inconvenient human crises.

“You’ll need to unbind us for this,” Orifiel asserts.

“Why?” Dean has to inquire, suspicious at the thought this is the first thing they want to do.

“If you bring Sandalphon here before he is bound, you might want to make sure you are not in any danger,” Sariel explains, letting his sword out of hiding and setting it down on the table.

“He would be able to kill everyone in the bunker with a simple touch,” Orifiel continues, putting his own sword in front of him.

“Dean, they’re right,” Sam confirms, a sour look on his face. He doesn’t want to be a part of this stupid plan. But his brother needs him. “They’ve helped us many times before.”

“So what? You’re on board now?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother with doubt.

“Could I change your mind?” Sam asks back ruefully, knowing all too well what the answer will be.

“No… I know you’ll make sure I come back,” Dean smiles, his stare on Sam now a determined one. “But no demon deals. Not you, and not Cas,” Dean warns his brother, pointing a finger at him.

“No demon deals,” Sam promises after swallowing loudly.

“Are you guys insane? How can you be that casual about Dean offing himself?” Charlie squeaks, all bundled up in her chair and looking at them in shock.

Dean has always known she was a tiny girl but now she looks even smaller with her feet up on the chair and holding her legs close to her torso, her chin on her knees. She has that same fear in her eyes that he had seen when she found her mother in her djinn induced nightmare.

“It’s gonna be okay, Charlie. It’s only for a little while,” Dean tries to reassure her.

“You don’t know that,” she says in a small shaky voice before jumping off her chair to go hug him. “You better come back or I’m gonna have to kill you, you stupid handmaiden,” she chides him through her sniffles.

“I will,” he promises, hugging her back and kissing her temple. “So, Sam? Where’s that flute?”

“I might as well just go get it. I remember where we put it,” the hunter offers before leaving the library because he’d rather _do something_ than stay there and wait for his big brother to die.

“You’re not gonna go see Cas before… you know…?” Charlie whispers to Dean after untangling herself from his arms.

“I’d like that but he won’t see me,” is all the hunter can muster to say, suddenly realizing he might never see his angel again.

“You heard him, right? You heard what he said,” the redhead tries to encourage him, softly grabbing his arm.

“Yeah…”

“You didn’t say it back.”

“It’s not… not the perfect setting,” Dean whispers in turn, nodding towards the angels.

“Nobody cares about a perfect setting. What if you don’t come back, Dean? Do you love the guy or not?” Charlie inquires, getting testy.

Dean can only nod, his throat once more constricted with a huge lump he can’t seem to swallow down.

“He needs to know,” she concludes, getting on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “And not the Star Wars version, he won’t get it,” she adds with a wink before going back to sit at the table.

~ ◊ ~

The door is shut, which means Castiel is probably inside. Dean knocks softly, hoping that if he doesn’t know it’s him he’ll come and open the door. But of course, Cas is far from stupid.

“Who is it?” he asks, his voice more hoarse than usual.

_“Shit, sounds like he’s been crying,”_ Dean notices, his heart heavy, not answering so Cas won’t know it’s him. Which of course has the exact opposite result.

“Go away, Dean. Just go and sacrifice yourself, you do that so well,” the former angel berates him with a crack in his voice.

Even if we wanted to, Dean wouldn’t be able to say anything back. All he can do is let his forehead hit the door and flat a hand up on the wood. He may be pretty much convinced he’ll be coming back, there’s still a bit of doubt that he might not. And the last memory Cas would have of him is how fucking stubborn he is.

Dean tries to calm himself down, breathing in the richness of the old door’s aroma, earthy and zesty, with a faded hint of varnish. This is what home smells like, and it does remind him of Castiel’s own essence… woodsy, musky, spicy.

Licking his lips at the thought, the hunter lets out a sigh, brushing his hand on the door as if caressing his lover’s naked chest.

“Cas…” Dean quietly calls, his heart a loud thump in his chest.

“Go away, Dean,” Castiel answers, morose. His voice sounds closer now, he’s most certainly mirroring Dean’s position on the other side of the door.

“I just… you gotta know… I love you, all right? I do,” is all Dean is able to say, not without difficulty, his tongue heavy, foreign in his own mouth.

There’s nothing but a thick silence bleeding from the room. He knows Castiel heard him. He probably can hear his erratic breathing they’re so close to one another. It doesn’t matter that there’s a massive wooden door between them, they still can feel each other.

“See you later, princess,” Dean says without a trace of humour in his voice, instead finding immense comfort in the stupid pet name.

He pushes himself off the door and starts walking back towards the library when he hears the door open and strong arms encircling him from behind.

“I hate you,” Castiel sobs, his face buried in Dean’s nape.

The former angel doesn’t waste any time and manhandles Dean so he’ll face him and grabs his face in a firm grip, forcing his eyes onto those of the hunter.

“I. Hate. You,” Castiel repeats, tears falling from his eyes.

“I know,” answers Dean with a sad smile.

“Just come back to me,” Castiel breathes before crashing his mouth on his lover’s.

As much as Dean would love to promise him he’d be back, he knows he can’t. So he just nods softly, letting his angel’s tongue enter his mouth and taste him. And as much as they both are fond of tasting one another, their melding of the tongues quickly turns into a desperate hug, as if they were trying to fuse their bodies together.

Castiel breathes deep, his nose in his lover’s neck, absorbing every little spec of him that he can. The clean soapy skin, the saltiness of his sweat, the tanginess of everything that is Dean, delicious like sweet citrus and peppercorn.

When Castiel lets him go, it’s not because he wants to but because he knows that if he doesn’t do it now, he’s never going to be able to. But before he does, he kisses him one last time, needing more of the taste of him on his tongue.

~ ◊ ~

Everyone, every human that is, is looking at Dean with evident sadness. He imagines he now knows how someone might feel while on their deathbed with their family surrounding them. Of course, Cas is missing because he refuses to see him die. But other than that, it must be what it would be like. He weirdly hopes to be able to still do this someday.

“I called Jody… she says you’re a moron,” Sam says with tears in his eyes. “But she loves you anyway.”

“I bet she does. You told her I was taken, right?” Dean replies in a failed attempt to make his brother laugh

“She’s taken too, jerk…” Sam is able to reply, but he can’t smile through it.

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean reciprocates, trying to smile enough for them both. “She’s too good of a woman for you.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sam says, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Sitting on one of the leather chairs, Charlie is sobbing quietly with Beth on her lap.

“I can count on you to keep her away from here once we start the ritual, Charlie?”

“Of course,” she confirms without looking at him.

“Goddamnit! Would you all stop crying? I’m coming back, it’s like a little vacation.”

What Dean doesn’t say is that he himself is pretty close to collapsing and crying like a motherfuckin’ baby. At the same time, he wonders if it would be so bad if he cried at all. Isn’t he going to die soon?

“Everything will be all right, my friends,” Penemue tries to reassure them. “We’re ready for the unbinding Sam,” she adds, nodding to the younger hunter.

“Okay, honey. Come give me a hug before Charlie brings you to your room, all right?”

Beth comes running into Dean’s arms while Sam starts on the unbinding spell.

“You’ll be nice with everyone, huh? Especially with Daddy, right? He’s a little sad right now.”

“I’m sad too,” she pouts, turning her face away from him.

“I know, baby girl, but don’t you worry. I’ll be back,” Dean near to promises.

He’s thinking he needs to tell her too that he loves her, wondering if he ever did. He must have, but he’s not sure. He has to tell her before leaving, mainly because he does but also because there’s a chance he won’t be coming back. He wouldn’t want his daughter to go through life wondering if her dad ever loved her.

“Beth, I—”

“Look Daddy… sparkles,” she interrupts him, rapt in wonder.

That’s all Dean has time to hear his daughter say before a blinding white light fills the space.

“Shut your eyes,” he yells at the room, pressing Beth’s face against his chest and closing his own eyes.

Almost immediately, he feels dizzy and it’s like his stomach drops to his heels. He’s felt that before. He’d felt this anytime Cas would zap them somewhere. Then the weight of his child dissolves from his arms.

“Beth,” he screams, opening his eyes to see he’s not in the bunker anymore. And he’s alone.

He turns around on himself a couple of times, only to understand that he’s in a dark room, and a pretty small one at that. The only light comes from a tight window high up in the ceiling.

“Hey,” he calls, hoping someone will hear him. “Sam? Cas? Beth?” he yells but nobody answers him.

The room is so dark he can’t see much of it, the only opening being too small and too far up to make any real difference. So Dean walks to the closest wall and fondles it, looking for anything, most specifically a door. But after two, maybe three, full circles around the tiny room, he has to come to the conclusion the only exit might be the ceiling, which is way too high. And there’s nothing he can use to climb up.

“Help,” he yells again and again, knowing full well it won’t do anything but hurt his throat. But it’s either that or punching the walls, which, after thorough inspection, seem to be solid concrete. “Where’s Beth?” he also has to yell, once more without the slightest answer. “Fuck,” he finally croaks, slumping down on the concrete floor.

~ ◊ ~

“What happened?” Castiel says, running to the library. “I saw this light shining under my door. Is everyone all right?” he asks again, taking a look around the room.

Charlie is face down on the floor with her arms over her head, trembling. Sam is seated at the table and slowly looking up from under his arms. He too had hidden his face. Still on their usual seats, Sariel, Ambriel and Orifiel are looking around the room, clearly confused by what just happened.

“Sam? Did you do the ritual right?” Ambriel inquires, clearly shaken up. As much as an angel could ever be anyway.

“Yeah, I think so. Can’t you tell?” Sam answers, just as confused.

“Indeed, I am unbound, thank you,” Ambriel confirms, relieved.

“Where’s Dean? And where’s Beth?” Castiel asks when he notices their absence from the room.

“They were right there a second ago,” Charlie answers, scrubbing at her eyes with one hand and pointing with the other where Castiel is now standing.

“Where is Penemue?” Orifiel asks in turn, looking around the room. “What did you do to her?” he growls, ready to smite the remaining Winchester.

“Orifiel! Leave him be. Pan’s flute has disappeared too,” Sariel warns the angel.

Everyone looks at the spot on the table where Sam had put down the box.

“Maybe he—” Orifiel tries to continue, keeping an eye on Sam.

“I don’t think so, Orifiel. I believe we were duped by Penemue,” Sariel explains, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What will she do? Open Heaven by herself? Why would she flee? We were just about to do the ritual,” Ambriel counters, not understanding how their sister could have decided to leave at such a critical moment.

“Don’t you think she might be working for the other guy? Sandalphon?” Sam tells him, furious. “She took Beth, Dean, and the flute. Now that monster can pretty much do whatever he wants.”

“But she was the one to say we should use Sandalphon for the angel blood,” Orifiel says, still determined on defending the angel he had chosen to follow.

“That must be what she has gone to do then,” Ambriel approves, also ready to defend his preferred leader.

“Now I get how you and your brother would feel when you talked to me. Those looks on your faces… they all make perfect sense now,” huffs Castiel for Sam’s benefit, seeing how the angels can’t seem to accept that Penemue had been deceitful. “Believe me brothers, she has to have been working for Sandalphon. There’s no other reason why she would take them and leave the way she did.”

“But how could she fly away like that?” Sam asks, concerned. “Didn’t you guys all lose your wings or something?”

“We didn’t lose them, Sam. But most of us have seen our wings be severely battered, burnt or broken. Penemue told us hers were broken and we believed her, she never used them,” Ambriel explains, lowering his head in shame.

“What would have happened to the angels who were already on Earth when Metatron cast the spell?” Sam asks, pretty much knowing the answer already.

“Nothing. They wouldn’t have fell since they already were on Earth. You think—” Sariel starts, just now realising what it is that the hunter might be suggesting.

“I think Sam is right to say Penemue might not have fallen. She was already stationed here and she probably has been working with Sandalphon from the start,” Castiel concludes, trembling, the adrenaline comedown leaving him weak in the knees.

Sam gets up and goes to stand between Sariel and Ambriel, his dominant frame towering over the still seated angels. His tone is clipped and non-equivocal when he addresses them.

“I need you guys to summon Tessa. She said she’d help us. Getting my brother and niece back constitutes a hell of a good reason to enlist the help of the Reapers. Penemue will regret the day she crossed the Winchesters.”


	20. Don’t Fear the Reaper

Penemue observes the sleeping child on the bed in Sandalphon’s motel room. She had taken off the dirty comforter and blankets, leaving only less than fresh yellowed sheets on the mattress. Fortunately, it was still warm enough so the girl wouldn’t be freezing to death should they have to spend the night in this place.

“I’m disappointed you didn’t kill the others before fleeing, Penemue,” the angel hears Sandalphon tell her from the chair he’s sitting in. “Now you know they will try to come and get their hunter and Oracle back, right?”

“They are close to being powerless, Sandalphon. I would think three wingless angels and two grieving humans should strike no fear in your heart,” Penemue counters, not willing to explain how even if she had betrayed her friends, she was not ready to become a ruthless killer.

“I do not _fear_ them. But they do seem to have friends in high places. Weren’t they able to enlist Death himself to help get rid of Metatron? Didn’t they make a deal with the King of Hell to ensure no demon would ever harm the child?”

“The Horseman won’t help them any more than he already has. Crowley won’t either, I’m certain of it.”

“And didn’t you say they were friends with a Reaper as well?”

“You know a Reaper’s powers are limited outside the veil. I think your plan can go forth without killing these particular individuals,” surmises Penemue, hoping her superior will stop with his questionings.

“Let’s hope for your sake that you are right, Penemue. I would hate to see you follow in Xaphan’s footsteps,” Sandalphon menaces, eyeing the angel with a pointed look. “Now tell me about the child. How can we use her?”

“So far, her visions mostly come haphazardly. The latest ones also seemed to make her suffer a great deal. Convulsions, fever, breathing issues—”

“What do you suggest we do?” Sandalphon cuts her off, uninterested by the physical pull the entity seems to be having on the child.

“If we were able to separate the Oracle from the flesh without hurting the child, I would suggest we do that,” Penemue offers, resolute in her idea not to harm Beth.

“The child is not important. What matters is the Oracle,” growls Sandalphon.

“Still, we don’t know if we can even separate them. The other solution would be for an angel to possess the child and pray she can sustain their grace. And also that the angel can hear and interpret the Word.”

“You think she’d say yes?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. But if that is the avenue you wish to take, I might be able to convince her,” Penemue responds, petting the girls hair in what could be construed as a tender gesture.

~ ◊ ~

When Tessa manifests in the bunker’s library, it is before a group of mournful humans and angels. Not that she isn’t used to grieving, she is a Reaper after all, but as far as she knows, nobody has died so the heaviness in the room has to be related to something else.

“Tessa,” breathes Sam when he sees her, making everyone in the room turn to look at her.

Sam’s features are drawn, flushed with anger, and Castiel doesn’t look any better. Next to them is a cute redhead she hasn’t seen before, one she can see identifies herself as Charlie Bradbury. Her eyes are red and her face is damp with tears. As for the angels, of course they do not show evidence of crying but they certainly look the closest thing to being emotionally strained as they ever could. Which is quite impressive, as far as angels are concerned.

“Sam, what’s going on?” the Reaper asks, choosing to tackle the problem head on. Because there _has_ to be a problem.

“Dean and Beth… they’ve been kidnapped,” Sam tells her after swallowing loudly.

“By whom?”

“Penemue. She was the leader of our group,” Sariel admits, not without difficulties. “It appears she has been working for Sandalphon all along. He now has the Oracle and all the necessary ingredients to open Heaven.”

“The Oracle, I understand, she’s just a kid. But the spell’s ingredients? Weren’t you going to do it anyway?” Tessa asks, unsure exactly why they would have called on her.

“Yes, Dean was intending on completing the spell. But he was here, with us. Now Sandalphon could be torturing him for all we know,” spits Castiel, his voice trembling. “You said you’d help us. Please, we can’t take Sandalphon’s forces on our own,” Castiel pleads, not beyond considering kneeling in front of the immaterial woman.

“Do you know where Sandalphon is holding them?” the Reaper asks in a gentle voice, hoping to see the ex-angel calm down a bit.

“When they kidnapped me, I was held somewhere in Nebraska, close to Holdredge. It’s not too far from here actually,” Sam provides, the three angels next to him nodding in agreement.

“But I am convinced Sandalphon was far from there. We cleared the house of all angels when we rescued him,” Orifiel adds in a gruff, still bitter about the outcome of that particular day.

“Do you have any clues?” Tessa asks the room, her hazel eyes travelling over everyone present.

“No… we tried to do a locating spell—” starts Castiel, unnerved.

“It literally blew up in their faces,” Charlie cuts him off, eyes wide, speaking for the first time since the Reaper’s arrival. “You can find them, right?” she asks, in no better shape than any of her friends.

“I can ask the Reapers to peak through the veil and see if they can find them.”

“When will we know?” Sam asks, finding a bit of his balance back.

“I don’t know, Sam. Hang tight, I’ll be back as soon as I know something,” Tessa reassures him before disappearing again.

The library is cloaked in silence once more, everyone keeping to themselves. Not that there’s anything to discuss really. They won’t be able to do much until they know where Dean and Beth have been sent.

Sam is angry, and sad, and he doesn’t know what to do. He hates that he has to wait because that’s not how they do things. It feels like they’ve spent the last year doing just that, waiting. And it now seems what all they’ve been waiting for was to get fucked over, once again.

He looks at the remaining angels, still seated at the library table, and all he wants to do is kill them all. They might not be the fraudulent ones, but they still were Penemue’s acolytes, her so-called family. He hadn’t felt an urge to kill that strong since he’d been hooked on demon blood.

“I truly am sorry, Sam. Had I known what Penemue was planning, I would have never agreed to follow her,” a calm Sariel confesses, seeing the hate that the hunter’s stare is sending him and his brothers. “Please know that I am willing to do anything to help you get your brother and niece back.”

“Same for me,” adds Ambriel, bowing his head low as if channelling his vessel’s ancestral customs. “I refused a vessel Sandalphon could have provided me because I didn’t believe in his cause, and I still don’t,” he promises his hosts, hoping they will believe his words to be true.

“Even though I do not approve of Penemue for blindsiding us the way she did, I am still not ready to condemn her entirely,” Orifiel feels the need to clarify, returning Sam’s heated glare in full. “But if indeed she has been working with Sandalphon, as you all seem to be suggesting, then please know that it was without my knowledge and would I have known, I would not have followed her either.”

Neither Sam nor Castiel seem to be willing to answer any of their pleas, if it’s what those are. But they both give short nods and go back to not paying attention to anyone in the room. Sam is starting to consider they should bind the angels again, if only for the security of the humans in the bunker. There’s no guarantee the flying dicks aren’t lying like Penemue had been doing all this time.

But he doesn’t say anything, not yet. Instead, he grabs his phone from his pocket and scrolls down to Jody’s number, walking away from the library. He doesn’t want to go too far, so he just stands a little further down the hall. All he wants is to be able to have a somewhat private conversation with his girlfriend.

“Hey Sam,” she answers after the first ring, her voice already in comforting mode. She’s pretty sure Dean is dead by now.

“Hey, babe,” he only replies, wishing he could be holding her in his arms.

“How are you holding up? Is it done?” she asks, careful, her voice a salvation on his aching heart.

“Penemue tricked us. The… the… minute she was unbound she… she kidnapped them. They’re gone, Jody,” Sam stutters in the phone.

“What? Who’s gone?”

“Dee…Dean and Beth. She took them.”

“Are they—” Jody breathes, her voice shaky now too.

“No! I don’t think so. Beth… Beth is important. And… the rest of the angels are still… still here so the ritual hasn’t been performed.”

“Do you need me? I’ll come right over.”

“I… Oh god… I would love to have you here, but no. It’s too dangerous,” Sam warns her, half hoping she will do as she always does and not listen to him in the slightest.

“Are _you_ in danger?” she asks, a renewed energy in her voice.

“No. I don’t know, maybe. The Reapers are helping us.”

“Reap… Damnit, all right. I’ll be there in five hours.”

“Takes more like six hours, babe.”

“I’m a cop, and I’m taking the cruiser. I’ll be there in five, if not before that.”

Jody hangs up before Sam has a chance to try and change her mind, even though he’s not entirely sure he would have. What he regrets is not having taken the time to tell her that he loves her. Because he does, he realises that now. He’s very much hoping she’ll get here before anything happens that could prevent her from knowing that. Maybe he should write it somewhere, just in case…

~ ◊ ~

If Dean has to be thankful for anything, it’d be to still have his phone in his pocket, not to mention his ever faithful lock pick kit and switchblade. Whoever has transported him here either was stupid enough to neglect to search him or just didn’t think he’d be able to do much damage with whatever he had anyway.

The second option seems to be about right because he can’t find locks to be picked, nothing the switchblade could carve into… including a jailor… and he has no bars on his motherfucking phone. All he can do is use the device as a flashlight, which doesn’t show more than what he already has discovered, or try and pass the time playing some mindless solitaire card game.

Well, he can also see how much time he’s spent sitting on the concrete floor, and it’s been something like six hours already. Nobody has come to see him, nor responded to his yelling and cursing. But the worst part is not knowing what has happened to Beth. That and the fact that he had had to choose a corner to pee in.

He’s hoping that Beth is still with Cas and Sam in the bunker, even though he’s convinced she’s not. He distinctly remembers her being in his arms when he felt the tumbling of the angel zap in his gut. It’s only when his surroundings seemed to settle again that he felt her dissipate from his arms.

And this all meant only one thing. Those fucking angels they had been helping all this time? They had betrayed them, taking flight the second Sam had unbound them and taking the Oracle and Heaven’s key with them. If he ever gets to see Cas again, he certainly owes him a fucking shitload of I-Told-You-So’s.

Dean is deep in his own mind when an unnatural light suddenly appears in the small room, making him jump in his own skin and shut his eyes it’s so bright. When he’s able to open them again, he can see that there’s some pale decrepit dude right in the middle of said light. The hunter quickly shoots to his feet, realizing at the same time that he does know who’s in front of him.

“You’re a Reaper,” he affirms, pretty sure he’s right.

The cadaverous man dressed in a black suit nods, his features impassive.

“And you are Dean Winchester,” he offers in a similar manner. “Tessa sent us to find you and the Oracle.”

“Did you find her?” Dean presses, finding it unfair that the Reaper doesn’t have a solid mass he could be shaking right about now. And okay, maybe hugging a bit too.

“I only found you. Now I must inform Tessa of your location. We are looking for the child, do not fear,” the Reaper says before disappearing, making the dungeon-like room pitch dark again.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean groans when realising he’d have to stay there alone again.

The upside seems to be that nobody is keeping an eye on him and his prison. The Reaper might not have stayed long but would there have been anyone guarding this place, they certainly would have made themselves known when hearing Dean was having a chat with a visitor. Now, all the hunter can hope for is that his holding cell isn’t just a hole somewhere in the middle of the Mongolian steppes… wherever that is.

~ ◊ ~

“Hello Penny,” Beth says when she opens her eyes.

Even though she’s in an unknown environment, Beth isn’t frightened. She sits up on the bed and starts looking around, apparently searching for something.

“Hello Beth. Are you feeling all right?” the angel asks the child with a smile.

“Daddy isn’t here? You didn’t bring him?” the girl asks, looking a little bit less comfortable now.

“We’re keeping him safe somewhere else. You want him safe, don’t you?” Sandalphon answers in place of Penemue who gets off the bed to walk away and stand near the door.

The angel with the hirsute hair and beard comes to take Penemue’s place on the bed, sitting next to Beth. He’s looking at her with a sharp eye, his lips slightly curled up in a tentative smile that is much closer to being a sneer than anything else.

Even more nervous now, Beth can only nod and send a watery gaze towards Penemue who turns away. Sandalphon takes a hold of the child’s chin and forces his icy stare into hers.

“Do you know who I am, child?” he asks in a falsely sweet tone.

“Sandalphon,” Beth replies, obedient.

“Do you know what I want?”

“To rule the angels,” is all she says because, quite frankly, that’s pretty much all she knows.

“So tell me, little Oracle of mine, will I win? Does Crowley die and do I come to rule over Heaven and Hell all the same? Am I just as good as God?”

From her retreated position near the door, Penemue has to stifle a snort when she hears her superior’s questions to Beth. He’s not going to be happy when he learns that the child might have lost her abilities sometime during the last twenty-four hours. But the angel knows Sandalphon would not have believed her anyway, so wrapped up is he in his delusions of grandeur.

“I don’t know,” the child answers, her chin trembling between the leader’s fingers.

“Think,” he snarls without letting her go.

“I can’t see—”

“Did you bring me a broken toy, Penemue?” the scruffy angel cuts Beth off, addressing his subordinate in a growl.

“You should know that the Oracle can’t be commanded, Sandalphon. If you ask and she doesn’t see, then you shall ask again later.”

“I can’t see,” the child says again but this time she’s crying.

“Be quiet,” Sandalphon yells, pushing her back on the bed with the hand he still had on her chin.

“Sandalphon! Do not hurt the child,” Penemue admonishes him, walking back to try and reach the bed.

But before she can come close, Sandalphon quickly stands up and gets in her way. She doesn’t even have time to try and get away from him before he has grabbed her by the arm and taken his sword out, resting it firmly across her throat.

“You ought to be very careful of what you say to me, _Penny_. Now that you’ve given me what I want, I can’t find a single reason to keep you around,” he murmurs, or rather grunts, in the woman’s ear. “Remember my old friend Xaphan? I killed him when he lost the Winchester boy. I would suggest that you think of his unfortunate passing the next time you feel the urge to challenge me. Am I making myself clear?”

Even though Penny is tempted to protest, she knows she is just another disposable tool to Sandalphon. And dying is not something she’s looking forward to. So she looks into her leader’s eyes and gives him a tight-lipped nod.

“Excellent. Now make her talk,” he snarls, pushing the angel away from him.

~ ◊ ~

“Why is it taking so long?” Charlie whines, tapping her spoon onto the full bowl of chilli Jody has placed before her. Everyone has been served a portion but none of them are really hungry.

“Stop it, Charlie. You’re sending chilli everywhere,” Castiel chides her, licking the top of his hand where some of the sauce had landed.

“Sorry,” she mutters, letting her spoon fall in the bowl.

“We don’t know how much time it’s gonna take, Charlie,” Sam finally answers, since nobody else seems to be willing to. “They could be anywhere. They might even be hidden from the Reapers,” he explains, trying to calm his nerves by carding both hands in his hair.

“They’re not,” Tessa offers with a smile when she manifests next to the fridge. “At least, Dean isn’t. We’ve found him.”

“Where is he?” Castiel asks, looking as if he’s ready to take flight.

“He’s held up in an abandoned concrete hole in Nevada, somewhere around Reno.”

“That’s like at least a full day from here by car. What about Beth?” Sam rushes Tessa, eager to take to the road so he can get to his brother.

“We haven’t found the child yet, but we’re still searching.”

“Did he have the flute with him?” Castiel asks, worried.

Tessa only shakes her head, eyeing the ex-angel with a sad frown.

“Sam, I know you want to get to your brother right away, but I have been discussing with the others and we might have an idea,” the Reaper explains, pacing back and forth between the fridge and the oven. “We only need to locate the flute first.”

"Beth is more important than the flute," Castiel feels the need to emphasize.

“I know, and we will find her. But we’re also looking for Pan’s flute. It is an intricate part of the plan we came up with.”

“And what’s your plan?” Sam has to ask, wondering why they would be making any plans without them.

“No need to worry about that now. The only thing I would like to ask of you is to wait a little, an hour at best, before leaving to get to your brother. Can you do that, Sam?”

“What is an hour going to change?” Castiel asks, eyes squinted.

“Exactly…” Tessa responds before disappearing again.

“Damn it,” yells Sam, banging his fist on the table, making the bowls and utensils tremble.

“Let’s give her one hour, all right? Then if she’s not back, we’ll just leave,” Jody tells Sam, getting up to bring a soothing hand to his back.

“I don’t even know where Dean is in Nevada, Jody.”

“We know it’s near Reno. They will have time to tell us exactly where before we even get near.”

“You wanna come?”

“Of course. You think I’m gonna let you do this alone?” Jody asks, a concerned look on her face.

“It’s too dangerous, babe,” Sam protests, shaking his head.

“Again, sheriff here. Not the safest job in the world, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah, but—”

“The only butt that interests me right now is the one in those jeans and how I want you to sit it back down,” she commands, grabbing a handful of her hunter’s backside.

“Yes ma’am,” Sam mocks her, sitting while making sure she’s following him on his lap. “Sixty minutes, and then we’re out of here,” he agrees before kissing her softly.

~ ◊ ~

“Hello, Dean!”

The hunter is startled once more by a presence in the dark room, and he’s glad to recognize the voice.

“Tessa! I can’t see you,” he says, fumbling with his phone to find the flashlight app.

“You will. I just didn’t want to blind you. It’ll get brighter soon.”

“Oh, right, thanks. So what, are you here to get me out?”

“I can’t, Dean. I’m not corporeal, remember? I can only do so much,” she apologizes, a soft light starting to seep around her form.

“Then what are you doing here? Did you tell my brother and Cas where I am? Are they coming?” Dean urges her, wondering what she could be doing there if she can’t even help him escape.

“They know, and they will come. But us Reapers, we had an idea. You are quite far, Dean, in Nevada.”

“Las Vegas?” Dean can’t help himself from asking with a tinge of hope in his voice, seeing as there could be worst places to end up.

“Closer to Reno, actually. Which is still far from your home.”

“Yeah, something like a day out I’d say. Have you found Beth?” he asks, getting up because his ass has fallen asleep and also because Tessa is now fully visible and having to look up at her is giving him a stiff neck.

“We’re still looking.”

“Okay. So what’s your plan?” he moans right in the middle of a full-fledged stretching.

“If we find the flute before your brother gets here, we could do the ritual without you needing to get rescued at all.”

“How do you figure? And… wait… what? We have the flute, why the fuck would you be looking for it?” Dean berates the Reaper, choosing not to admit to the obvious reason behind their searching of the object.

“Penemue didn’t only take you and Beth, she left with Pan’s flute as well,” Tessa explains, unperturbed by Dean’s outburst.

“So it was Penemue, huh? How about the other dickheads?”

“They are still in the bunker and have chosen to help your family. They were not the angel’s accomplices.”

“Yeah, well that remains to be seen if you ask me. So, what now? Like you said, you’re immaterial, so you can’t do the ritual yourself. And I certainly can’t kill myself. I doubt that would send me upstairs,” Dean deduces without actually knowing if that’s true at all.

“I’m still a Reaper, Dean. All I have to do is take your soul from your body and send it where we need it to go.”

“That’s good, I guess. Shouldn’t hurt much. And what about the other ingredients?” Dean wonders, nodding to himself.

“I’m certain your family will have no problem finding an angel to bleed,” the Reaper says with a smirk. “But I think we should refrain until we find Pan’s instrument before killing anyone.”

“I agree. Even though I’m so bored I probably wouldn’t mind being dead right about now,” Dean grimaces, exhaling loudly.

“Humans are a very impatient species. I’ll be back when I have more news. Sit tight.”

“I was thinking of going for a run actually…” Dean responds to the now empty room, sporting a satisfied smile as if to confirm that yes, he is hilarious.

It just sucks that there’s no one else with him to confirm it.

~ ◊ ~

“You know Beth, those questions Sandalphon asked you, he would really love to hear the answers,” Penemue tells the golden-eyed child, offering her a wrapped vanilla cake she had found at a nearby gas station.

The kid looks at the pastry and shakes her head, instead sipping from the juice box Penny had also brought for her.

“I can’t answer his questions,” the girl tries to explain around the straw in her mouth. “It’s like I don’t get images or words anymore. The TV in my head is like that one,” she says, pointing to the device with the cracked screen lying on the room’s floor.

“What’s the last thing you saw?” asks Penemue, even though she’s pretty sure her last vision was what made her distressed the night the Reaper came to the bunker.

“I saw everything going black. But before that, I saw you take Daddy and me. I knew you’d bring us to Sandalphon. That’s why I told Daddy not to make you leave,” the child explains again, shaking her slightly crunched juice box to make sure it’s empty.

“You did? Why didn’t you say anything, Beth?” the angel asks, surprised to know that her plan had been discovered but even more that the kid would let it happen.

“Because I also have instructions sometimes. And this time, the instruction was that this needed to happen. If I had told my daddies, they would have made you leave and the world would never be okay again. Do you have crackers?”

“Who gives you these instructions, Beth? Do you know?” Penemue urges the kid, ignoring the cracker question.

“I dunno,” Beth only says with a shrug. “It’s only words and images in my head. I don’t know where they come from. I’m hungry, Penny.”

“Listen to me, Beth. It is very important that you try and remember anything you might have seen about Sandalphon or anything about the resolution of the conflict to come,” the angel implores the child, putting the wrapped cake on her lap once more.

“I don’t want cake,” Beth whines, pushing the package away. “I want cheese crackers, or a sandwich,” she requests in a trembling voice.

“We don’t have any of that, Beth. Please try and eat the cake. I thought all kids liked them.”

“That’s dessert. I want dinner,” she mutters before starting to cry.

Penemue is feeling pretty helpless now. She can’t leave the room because Sandalphon had to go attend to some business elsewhere, and leaving the child alone is certainly not an option. She’s an angel and even though her vessel is female, it doesn’t give her much inside information as to what a mother should do in such situations.

The hand she puts on the child’s back in a soothing attempt seems to be having the opposite effect as Beth starts crying even louder, flinching from the angel’s touch. Remembering that she is an angel after all, Penemue decides to bring her fingers to the kid’s temple and send her into a deep sleep. It won’t help with Beth’s hunger but it certainly will help keep her calm until the angel can go out and get more suitable food.

“Sleep tight, child. It’ll all be over soon,” Penny says in Beth’s ear before kissing her forehead, wiping the tears from the little face with her thumb.

“You seem to like the child. Why did you do this, Penemue?”

The angel gets up quickly, letting the angel blade fall in her hand. In front of her is a creature she recognizes as a Reaper. It has taken the appearance of a young woman with hazel eyes and dark brown hair. She’s rather pretty, unlike most of the other Reapers’ chosen forms she’s ever seen.

“Why do you look like that?” she asks, intrigued enough to forget that she probably shouldn’t be wasting any time chatting with the entity.

“This is how the Winchesters know me. I am Tessa, a—”

“I know what you are. Now flee before I kill you. You know I can.”

Tessa smiles. “I made my presence known to you only because I spoke. I could have left and you would never have known I was here.”

“But I’ve seen you now. You should have stayed silent.”

“Somehow I don’t think you want to kill me. Or anyone for that matter,” Tessa professes, her stare never faltering from the angel’s.

“If need be, I will.”

“You shouldn’t feel threatened by me. I can’t kill you.”

“You can’t kill me, but Sandalphon can. And he will if he ever learns that I let you live,” Penemue says, stepping towards the Reaper.

“You never answered my question, Penemue. Why did you do this?” Tessa asks without even bothering to move away from the angel’s path.

“Why do you think? I was ordered by my leader to—”

“But you like the child. You do not wish for your leader to have her, do you?”

“You do not know a thing about me,” Penemue groans, almost close enough to touch the Reaper.

“I know that you’re a coward. Most angels seem to be. You are blindly following a megalomaniac dictator. You know that, right?”

“What are we to do when our Father has gone and there are no Archangels left to guide us? We are only trying to survive. _I_ am only trying to survive,” the angel argues, lifting her sword-bearing arm to attack the Reaper.

“Sandalphon is not your saviour,” Tessa proclaims after having disappeared, only to reappear next to the sleeping child.

“Get away from her,” snarls Penemue, both in a will to protect Beth and obey Sandalphon’s orders.

“Tell me where the flute is, Penny. And then I will tell you how to save the child.”

“I don’t know where the flute is,” the angel says a little too quickly, keeping her eyes on Beth instead of the Reaper.

“You are lying. If you care for that child at all, you will cooperate with me. Nobody will need to die… much,” Tessa smirks, keeping an eye on the angel’s weapon.

“I… I’m not sure. I think Sandalphon keeps it on his person. But I swear I haven’t seen it after giving it to him,” Penemue stutters, still with her sword in front of her but more in a defensive manner. “Now, how do I save the child?”

“How much time do we have until Sandalphon comes back?” asks Tessa, finally able to lock eyes with the angel.

“I’m not sure, but I think you should speak fast,” she advises the Reaper before concealing her sword again.


	21. Everyone’s Gotta Die Sometime

There’s a moderate amount of patrons in the restaurant at this time of day, mostly business men or women all dressed in sharp suits and no doubt conducting important affairs. It is fair to say that the man sitting on the far side of the dining room, pretty much looking like a vagrant, is sticking out like a sore thumb. It kind of forces his neatly dressed lunch companion to send apologizing looks to the other diners whenever they look their way.

“Haven’t you ever heard of dressing for the part, mate?” a dapper Crowley hisses, scowling at his guest.

“This is only a vessel, Crowley. It doesn’t matter. Now tell me what it is you want,” Sandalphon replies, disgust evident in his whole demeanour.

“I was hoping we could come up with an arrangement, you and I. It came to my attention that you wish to “dethrone” me?” the King of Hell asks, not able to resist mocking the angel by using exaggerated air quotes.

“I _will_ dethrone you, demon,” promises the angel. “My army is making its way to the battlefield right as we speak. Your kind will be stricken down,” the shaggy angel menaces with a smile.

“Abaddon is dead, Sandalphon. The demons listen to me now, and I don’t see the purpose of going to war,” Crowley attests calmly, tapping his fingers on the white tablecloth.

“I should not be surprised that an abomination such as yourself would rather hide in the depth of eternal damnation than fight,” Sandalphon taunts the demon. “But I know things that you might not, Crowley. Abaddon might be dead, but her purpose isn’t. And her followers certainly don’t care about that little contract you have with the Winchesters.”

“So what? You think that they will follow you? You’re a bloody angel, they will kill you the second you turn your back, you moron,” Crowley snarls.

“Of course they won’t follow me, not at first anyway. But I do intend on killing them all unless they submit. And if we need to march down in Hell to achieve this feat, we will,” the angel complies, smiling even wider now. “You might want to reconsider not defending yourselves on that battlefield, don’t you think?” Sandalphon concludes, getting up and leaving the restaurant.

“Bullocks,” spits Crowley before snapping his fingers to leave.

~ ◊ ~

Sam and Jody have been on the road for close to six hours when they decide to swing by a truck stop in Wyoming, not too far from Cheyenne. Jody parks the cruiser in front of the diner and they both go in to use the restroom and buy some food to go while Ambriel stays in the backseat. It’s not like he needs anything anyway.

It doesn’t take five minutes for Castiel to come and park the Impala next to the cruiser. He gets out of the car with Charlie in tow, both also going to the diner to relieve themselves and get some food. In the backseat sit Orifiel and Sariel who turn to their brother and nod.

The humans come out of the diner together and each hurry back to their own vehicle, not wanting to lose precious time with unnecessary chitchat. They can always call or text each other if something needs to be said.

Both parties decide to switch drivers, which makes Castiel a bit nervous, not knowing how Dean will react knowing Charlie drove his car. But since he did let Meg drive it – and even smash it that one time – he’s thinking that he wouldn’t have so much to say against Charlie driving his Baby now.

The next time they stop is at a McDonald’s in Utah, right passed Salt Lake City. They have to stop, mainly because Sam and Charlie have been driving for the last seven hours, but also pretty much everyone is hungry and need to use the restroom again. Only this time, they properly stop, asking the angels to follow them as they want to eat their meals inside.

The real deal is that Sam has news to share with his friends. What the Impala crew doesn’t know is that Tessa had appeared in the cruiser’s backseat about an hour before they hit Salt Lake City, bearing some interesting news.

Of course, Sam could have called to share what he had learned but he figured there might be some planning to be done so they’d better just stop and do that while eating. Jody had looked up on her phone what would be the easiest place they could get to and McD’s seemed to be the obvious choice, especially since there was a chance they wouldn’t get there before sunrise.

Soon enough everyone is seated together in plastic chairs, the angels each with what they like to call a polite coffee. The restaurant is much busier than they would have thought, and even the drive-thru seems pretty busy for such an early time. Then like he often does, Sam has to remind himself that it is a weekday and that normal people have jobs that they need to get to.

“You know the human body needs exercise to eliminate the calories you eat, right?” Charlie can’t help but comment when she sees that Castiel has taken the biggest breakfast item on the menu, a huge plate complete with eggs, hotcakes, sausages, hash browns and a biscuit.

“I’m hungry,” explains Castiel, not caring that he has already stuffed a good amount of sausage in his mouth.

“He’s learned his table manners from Dean, hasn’t he?” Jody not so much asks as observes with a disgusted pout.

“Who else,” confirms Sam, eating a huge spoonful of his oatmeal, before unwrapping his sausage burrito.

“Oh… I didn’t see those,” whines Castiel, eyeing Sam’s breakfast with a bit of envy.

“I got two of them. I’ll trade you one for your biscuit and a hotcake,” offers Charlie with a smile.

“Aren’t you going to be hungry later?” Castiel worries, seeing how he already finds her tray to be pretty low on food.

“Nah… I don’t think I was going to eat all of the second one anyway. I got a hash brown too, it’s more than enough.”

“All right. Thanks, Charlie,” beams Castiel, switching the items between his and Charlie’s trays.

“That’s a whole lot of eggs and meat, Cas,” comments Sam with a smirk.

“He threw up his food from earlier so I think he’s pretty hungry now,” explains Charlie, which grants her a wrathful stare from Castiel.

“Not sure that’s going to help, Cas. Are you sure you’re okay?” frets Jody, already with a hand on his forehead.

“I’m fine, Jody. I think it’s just nerves, as Charlie suggested earlier. I slept almost the whole way here so I should be okay now.”

“If you don’t feel good and want me to keep driving, just say so. I don’t mind. I’m used to staying awake for a long while,” the redhead assures him, keeping to herself that it was her videogame fetish that had trained her to stay alert for long periods of time.

“I promise, I’m okay. Now Sam, what is it that you wanted to talk to us about?”

“Yeah, so get this. Tessa appeared in the car earlier to tell us where we need to go. Both Dean and Beth are actually closer to Virginia City than Reno but we’re still on the right path.”

“I’ll show you were on the app in your phone, Cas. It’s probably going to take us another eight hours to get there, maybe nine, depending on how remote Dean’s location is,” Jody helps explain while Sam eats a bit more of his breakfast.

“Exactly. So, Jody and I will go get Dean. I’m almost tempted to ask Ambriel to go with you guys since you’re going to Sandalphon’s hideout but Tessa told me we shouldn’t have to worry about him. Plus, we might need Ambriel’s angelic strength, we don’t know where Dean’s holed up exactly.”

“Why not worry about Sandalphon?” Castiel asks, pretty sure that particular angel should be the one to worry about the most.

“Because Tessa says he should be dead when you get there. He’s been elected to be part of the ritual after all.”

“Over Penemue?” Castiel spits, having difficulties containing his rage for the sister he once thought was his ally.

“I think Sandalphon is much more dangerous than Penemue,” Sariel comments dryly.

“And who is going to kill him? One of us?” demands Orifiel, genuinely intrigued by the human’s plan. “Not that I mind, but I do wonder.”

“I am told he should be dead when you arrive on site. You are going over there to get Beth and bring her home,” Sam smiles, loving the sound of those words.

Everyone stays silent for a while, taking in the information Sam has just shared. Because even though he hasn’t said it, they all know what the rest of the plan entails.

“What about Dean?” still needs to ask Cas, even though he’d rather not, pretty sure he knows what Sam will tell him.

“When Sandalphon’s blood has been spilled, Pan’s flute needs to be coated in it. Once that’s done, Tessa will go and grab Dean’s soul so she can send him off to Heaven. When he’s through and speaks the words, the flute should call the angels back to Heaven,” Sam explains, doing his best to keep his voice from trembling.

He hates the thought of his brother sacrificing himself once again, and this time for a species that has spent the last five years fucking them over. But Sam knows that’s not the reason he’s doing this; it’s for Beth, it’s for him, it’s for Cas. It’s for all those poor souls trapped in the veil and every human that’s gonna have to die someday.

And Sam is only going along with it because everyone keeps telling him that they can bring his brother back once the doors are open. But he still hates it with all he can muster.

“And who will spill Sandalphon’s blood? Do you know?” Castiel asks, choosing not to comment on everything he’s just heard, pretty much for the same reasons as Sam.

“Tessa says that Penemue will be the one to kill him,” Jody informs him, knowing Sam isn’t too keen on believing that piece of information just yet.

“I told you,” Orifiel hollers, banging his fist on the PVC table, making many clients and employees turn their attention to the small group.

“Orifiel, please. Stay discreet,” Castiel growls, keeping an eye on their surroundings. “As for myself, I’ll believe it when I see it,” he continues before digging his fork in his enormous breakfast plate.

“Have faith, brother,” Orifiel tells him, now in a much gentler voice. “Our sister might have betrayed us but she may now have seen the error of her ways. I am inclined in giving her a second chance and I would plead with you that you do the same.”

“As I said before, I will believe it when I see it. Only then, if indeed she redeemed herself, may I not be so inclined to annihilate her,” spits Castiel, throwing the fork he was holding in the still half full plate in front of him. “I’ll be outside. You’ll show me the way on my phone before we leave, Jody?” the ex-angel asks, getting up and picking up his tray to get rid of it.

“Of course. We should be ready to go soon, right Sam?” Jody asks the hunter.

“Yeah. We should be hitting the road within the next twenty minutes, tops,” he confirms, nodding at his friend who only nods back before making his way out.

“You want a big soda or something before we leave?” Sam asks Jody, working on his bowl of oatmeal.

“Nope. I’m getting the biggest and blackest coffee they got. I’m the one driving, remember?” she replies, finishing the small latte she had been sipping on along with her breakfast. “How about you?”

“I’ll be sleeping so, I don’t think I’ll need anything. We still have a couple of bottles of water in the car so I’m good.”

“Want an oversized caffeine rush, Charlie? My treat,” Jody asks the younger girl, not thinking how she had been the one driving since Cheyenne.

“I’m sleeping this time around, but Cas might appreciate it,” she responds, giggling.

“Right, sorry, I forgot. See, I really do need that coffee,” she laughs back, walking towards the row of cash registers.

After ten minutes, everyone’s sated and back in the parking lot, getting in their assigned cars while Jody is showing Castiel where they’re going. She’s setting up the GPS option so it’ll be easier than to ask one of the angels to try and guide him. Because she had heard about Castiel’s map reading problems from Dean and, although it had been a funny story, they didn’t have time to get lost this time around.

After another five minutes, both groups are back on the road, travelling west on I-80.

Thirty minutes later, both Charlie and Sam are sleeping soundly, lolled by the soft rumbling of the vehicles on the asphalt.

Seven hours in, Sam calls Charlie to explain how he has booked rooms at the Super 8 on Virginia Street near South McCarran, in Reno. That’s where they’ll need to go after they have found Beth. He and Jody will be joining them as soon as they find Dean.

~ ◊ ~

Twin Oaks Reservoir in Nebraska, close to where it meets Kansas, is where Sandalphon’s army has started to gather. If there were locals to see them, they would have been impressed by the number of people making their way to the dried up land surrounding the otherwise tranquil water body.

Very few still have their wings intact but those who do are pretty much acting as shuttles between the battlegrounds and wherever angels need to be transported from. Others have been making their way by their own means, would it be by car, truck, or bus. There’s even this one angel possessing a farmer and driving a tractor. He’s making a slow but remarkable entrance, hauling a small platform with close to two dozen angels cramped on it.

Sandalphon is another one of those angels with unscathed wings, which had helped him enormously in the organizing of his campaign. But right now, all he is willing to do is observe. He will not act as a transporter and he will not fight, not yet. All he needs to do now is make sure his angels do what is required of them. Their orders are simple; kill the demons, stay alive.

He is tempted to fly back to the abandoned motel in Nevada and tell Penemue to come here and fight alongside her family. But while he hates to think he might be needing anyone, he can’t very well leave the Oracle alone and he’d rather see his brethren exterminate the hellish nuisance than spend his time suffering that dreadful kid’s company.

Right when the angel is wondering if the demons will forfeit by failing to show up, he hears a deep rumble from far away and the skies quickly darken, demon clouds occupying every bit of the azure.

The shuttle angels work faster now, bringing in more individuals every time. The dry field is quickly filling up with the most random crowd of human beings – well, vessels actually – to have ever been assembled.

The second the demon cloud touches ground, it’s another myriad of random people materializing on the terrain. For anyone unable to see the warriors’ true forms, it can only look like regular people with no clear affiliation just trying to kill each other. Of course, both angels and demons can see each other’s true form and they make no mistake when slicing their victims’ throats.

If at first the angels have the upper hand, thanks to their angel swords and overall angelic power, it doesn’t take long for the demons to catch on. As soon as they are able to get their hands on some of those swords, they become almost as dangerous as the angels themselves.

Sandalphon is looking at the massacre with a maniacal grin on his face, proud to see his family battling so fiercely. From every direction, more and more are coming and the bringers are still flying in more angels. Right now, they are outnumbering the demons and he couldn’t be more pleased.

He is trying to locate the pompous King of Hell roaming around when he gets an urgent prayer from Penemue.

_“The child is dying. Come at once before we lose the Oracle.”_

~ ◊ ~

Of course Sandalphon is surprised to find Penemue driving her blade in his heart the second he materializes in the room, how could he not? She is his subordinate, so afraid of dying that she would have done anything – _anything_ – he would have asked of her. Even kill that stupid child she had convinced herself she liked. _“Angels don’t like, Penemue,”_ he thinks to himself, letting his body sink to the floor, unable to take his eyes off the splendour of his grace oozing from the bleeding wound.

Yet, he finds the will to look up at his assassin’s face, only to see it wet with tears. _“Stupid Penemue, angels don’t cry either,”_ he thinks again, faintly wondering why it is he can’t say the words out loud. Still, she is crying and he can’t understand why, or how. Not that he cares, seeing that he is busy dying and all.

The last thing he sees is the Oracle, sleeping soundly while he is on the floor agonising and he loathes her for it. _“May our Father strike you dead, Beth Winchester,”_ are the last words to ever be thought by the angel Sandalphon.

Penemue observes her leader perish and as soon as the last of his grace has exploded away, causing his wings to leave their mark on the dusty carpet, she uses her sword to make another deep cut, this time on his forearm. She holds an old ice bucket under the flow of blood and with her other hand, she diligently palms the vessel, letting out a relieved breath when she finds Pan’s flute.

“I am sorry, brother,” she breathes while grabbing the flute from the inside pocket of his dirty coat. “I couldn’t let you hurt that child. And nobody will ever hurt her again,” she concludes, letting the angel’s bleeding arm fall on his chest.

She takes the bucket and the flute and brings them to the table. She plunges the instrument in the blood and starts coating it using both her hands, making sure that even the inside of the tubes get painted.

When she deems the instrument to be covered in enough blood, Penemue recites the Enochian formula the Reaper had given her. As soon as the last word passes the angel’s lips, an unexpected hum starts emanating from the container.

It is faint but Penemue can still feel it tug at every fibre of her being, making her grace and vessel tingle. She wonders if she can sense the magic of the object because of how close it is. She lets it fall in the bucket and walks away, curious to see if it will call her right back, but it doesn’t. It is now time to summon Tessa, who immediately appears before her.

“I see you started the ritual,” is Tessa’s only greeting, looking at the dead angel with a satisfied smile.

“He did have the flute on him and I soaked it in his blood. Now you tell me how to save the child.”

“You will need to stab her with—”

“What? No! I won’t kill Beth,” the angel yelps, eyes wide in horror.

“No, you won’t. Let me explain,” Tessa berates her. “You will stab her with the branch of a thousand year old oak dipped in a blessed goat’s blood. This will kill the Oracle.”

“But stabbing the child will kill her too, she is still part human,” tries to explain Penemue, ignoring the obvious.

“And you are an angel, Penemue. All you need to do once the Oracle is gone is heal her,” the reaper counters with a patient smile.

“Are you sure—”

“There’s no other way. If you don’t do this, a world of pain awaits this child, you must know this. Before long, another angel will come along, or the demons might decide they want her after all. She will never be safe. And this is if the visions don’t kill her first.”

“You are right,” Penemue finally accepts with a nod. “I will do as you say.”

“Be quick. Castiel is on his way here, you might want to do this before they arrive,” Tessa offers before fleeing from the room, leaving a conflicted Penemue alone.

She might be conflicted, but she knows that this is the right thing to do. It is another thing she can do to redeem herself in the eyes of the brothers she betrayed. Especially now that they will all soon be called home, she would rather have a pleasant reunion than a fatal one.

So it’s a blessing that she would know where to find both ingredients at once and she takes flight, leaving the sleeping child behind.

~ ◊ ~

“Hello, Dean,” comes the Reaper’s voice in the dark, waking up the hunter.

“Hey, Tessa,” Dean groans back, opening his eyes to see a soft light starting to glow.

“Are you ready?” she asks in a kind voice.

“Huh… gimme a minute, maybe? Tell me what’s been going on.”

“All right. Sandalphon is dead, his blood covers the flute. All the spell needs now is you.”

“Yeah? And how’s that gonna go?” Dean huffs, hating how nervous he is feeling.

“I will touch you and you will die, you know how that goes. Then I will take you upstairs so you can knock Heaven’s doors down,” she smiles.

“So, that’s it? I get to Heaven and the angels will be bungie’d back up?”

“Pretty much. As long as you don’t forget to recite the formula, that is. You remember it?”

“It’s etched in my brain. How much time will I be gone?”

“I don’t know, Dean. Everyone reaches Heaven at their own pace, it might take many hours, it might take several days. Then the angels will need to find you in order to bring you back to your body.”

“I remember Zachariah not having much problem finding us up there, I should be all right,” smiles Dean, remembering his stint in Heaven with Sam.

“I hope so too, Dean. Are you ready now?” she asks again.

“Might as well. But hey, what will happen to you guys? When Heaven opens again?”

“We’ll be extremely busy,” Tessa teases before cupping her hand on the hunter’s face, causing him to collapse to the floor, lifeless.

It isn’t the first time Dean finds himself confronted with his own dead body. It’s almost funny how it’s not even shock-inducing anymore. He looks at his unmoving form and notices with a frown that he has gone and pissed his pants.

“I should have taken care of that before you killed me,” he says to Tessa, pointing at the wet patch growing on his jeans.

“Wouldn’t have changed a thing, I’m afraid. Come on, let’s go. You have a long way to go,” she says, hooking her arm under his.

“Should we play charades while we’re—”

“I’m not going Dean, I’m only here to send you on your way.”

“It’s not like I know where Heaven is,” Dean objects, looking at the Reaper as if she had lost her mind.

“Really? You’d think you’d know where it is you’ve been so often,” she laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s like being on automatic pilot, your soul knows the way,” she reassures him.

“Fine. I hope there’s no elevator music while we go up because I might just wanna come right back down,” he quips, feeling his body – well, his soul to be more exact – slowly drift away from Tessa.

“See you later, Dean Winchester,” she replies before disappearing once more.

“No wonder I don’t remember this part ever happening. This is boring as shit,” groans Dean after a while, trying not to think about the fact that he’s basically flying.

And this is only the first of many of the complaints Dean will voice while on his way to Heaven.

~ ◊ ~

Penemue is glad there’s a very old oak – from the human’s perspective anyway – not too far from where she is. Finding a blessed goat is proving to be much more difficult. But since she’s an angel, she finally snatches a regular goat and blesses it herself before cutting its throat. With the warm blood, she coats the oak branch she found in California.

All she needs to do now is stab the child with it, which is not as easy as the Reaper seems to think. And Penemue hates the fact that she appears to be compromised in such a way. Feeling things, appreciating certain humans more than others, sometimes even more than her own family. Wasn’t that what made Castiel different from them all, what made him fall?

So for the second time that day, Penemue sheds tears when thinking about what she’s about to do. She had shed tears for her brother when she stabbed him to death, and she is now doing the same because she has to stab a human child.

“I am not a killer,” murmurs the angel before sinking the bloody branch into the little girl’s chest.

Beth doesn’t have time to fully wake before life seeps out of her. Her agonizing cry barely covers the sound of the door being knocked down and the horrified screams of the numerous people trampling in the room. Penemue’s own scream joins the others’ when she feels a blade pierce through her back.

“Noooooooo,” she yells, realising she won’t be able to save Beth if she dies. “Please! I have to—”

“You killed my child,” she hears a voice growl behind her. She’s unable to recognize it, even though she knows she should.

“No—” she tries to explain before enduring a second stabbing, this time in her chest. “I need—” she gargles, her mouth full of blood.

“All you need is to die!”

It’s that voice again. Penemue turns away and sees that she is lying on the bed, close to Beth. She could touch her if she could only bring her hand a little higher.

“Save… her…” she croaks, extending her arm and sending the last of her grace into the child’s body.

All she can accomplish is make herself die a little quicker and it doesn’t help Beth in the slightest. Enraged, Castiel grabs the angel and throws her on the floor. She lands right over Sandalphon’s dead vessel, making Charlie squeal when a blotch of coagulating blood splatters on her shoe.

“Orifiel! Sariel! Save her,” Castiel cries out, which is not necessary as Sariel is already tending to the dead child, taking out the wooden stake.

He hovers a hand over her wound and they all can see his grace make its way into her body. The healing is quick and Beth soon starts to breathe again, the colour returning to her face. When she opens her eyes, it is to find Castiel, Charlie, and the angels looking at her with concerned frowns.

With a relieved sob, Castiel takes his child in his arms, not caring about the blood on her pyjamas staining his already dirty t-shirt. He needs her against him, needs to smell her, to feel her weight in his arms. He never wants to let her go.

“We can’t stay here, Cas,” he hears Charlie tell him. “Come on, I’ll drive,” she adds, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “One of you guys gets to ride shotgun, I think Cas should be in the back with Beth,” Charlie says again, seeing how he probably wouldn’t want to release his hold on the child.

“Thank you, Charlie,” says Castiel, looking up at her with the saddest happy face she’s ever seen.

“No problem. Come on now. Orifiel, you’re bigger than Sariel, why don’t you sit in the front with me?” she offers, thinking Cas and Beth could use as much room as possible.

“I would appreciate it, thank you. This vessel is a little imposing to spend so much time folded in a space this small.”

“Can’t be worst than cramming your true form in a human body now, can it?” she mocks, thinking how big angels actually are.

“Indeed,” Orifiel confirms with a nod.

~ ◊ ~

“You’ll want to make a left turn here,” Tessa tells Jody, making her and Sam jump in their seat because, of course, she wasn’t in the car until a second ago. Ambriel, in true angel fashion, doesn’t stir.

“Jeez, Tessa! I could have crashed the car,” Jody reprimands her, giving her the stink eye in the mirror.

“Sorry. So, left?” the Reaper insists, pointing to a gravel pathway.

“So… what are we gonna find?” needs to ask Sam, even though he already knows.

“The body of your dead brother,” she responds with honesty. It’s not like it was going to be a surprise anyway.

Still, Sam clears his throat, feeling as if he could never breathe again. He wipes the tears from his eyes and sniffles, trying real hard not to lose it right then and there. Dean was gonna come back, the angels and the Reaper told him he would.

“It’s all going to be okay, babe,” Jody says softly, fighting against her own tears.

“There’s a fork up ahead, go right,” Tessa just says, having nothing more to provide at this time.

The cabin is silent, safe for Tessa who’s acting as their own personal GPS. Until the road ends and they can’t go any further. Sam hopes they don’t have to start going on foot, trying not to imagine having to carry his dead brother back in his arms for miles.

“It’s right there. See this round metal cover? I trust Ambriel will be able to break the lock for you,” the Reaper says, transporting herself outside next to where Dean has been confined. “I think my job here is done, Sam. I trust you will be able to drive back to where you need to go?”

Jody nods, worrying at her bottom lip, while the angel is making his way to Dean’s prison door to unlock it. Sam is going through the trunk to get cords and anything else they might need to bring Dean back up.

“Good luck. And thank you for helping us be able to do our job again,” Tessa says before disappearing for the last time.

It isn’t long before the door, or trap door to be more exact, is opened. Half of the cavernous chamber is concealed in darkness but they can see the bottom half of Dean’s legs in the illuminated part of the hole. He’s lying on the floor, motionless.

Sam ties the thick rope he found around his body, then gives the remainder of the bundle to Ambriel. While they do this, Jody goes back into her cruiser to grab a blanket from the trunk spread it out on the ground, trying not to fixate of the reason she’s doing it. Ambriel, being as strong as he is, doesn’t lose much time sending Sam down. He brings the brothers back to the surface as soon as Sam tugs on the rope to signal that they’re ready.

Nobody speaks when Sam comes back up, transporting his brother bridal style with tears staining his cheeks. Nothing is said when Sam deposits Dean on the blanket, brushing his face with a trembling hand and wrapping the blanket around him. All that can be heard are Jody and Sam’s controlled sniffles when the hunter brings his shrouded brother to place him in the backseat and secure him with the seatbelt.

“Ambriel, please ride in the front, all right?” is the last thing the younger Winchester says until Jody drives them back to the Super 8 in Reno.


	22. Over My Dead Body

It hadn’t been too complicated for Charlie to go to the motel’s front desk and get the keys to one of the double rooms Sam had booked with Jody’s credit card. With four adults and a kid, everything checked out, as did the name that had been provided and matched Charlie’s drivers license. The clerk also confirmed that Jody Mills’ party hadn’t checked in yet.

Castiel is still clutching at Beth as if she were going to disappear at any minute. She had been glad to spend her time in the safety of his arms but, like it would be for any six-year-old kid, it was now getting a bit old.

“Daddy? You can let me go now,” she tries to tell her father, letting her own hold on him falter a bit.

“I know,” Castiel answers before taking a deep breath and finally letting her extricate herself from his arms. “I’m so sorry, Beth. Penemue shouldn’t have—”

“Where is Penny?” the child asks, only now wondering about her abductor.

“She will never hurt you again, I promise,” Castiel growls, softening his words with a slight brush of his hand on the girl’s cheek.

“She didn’t. And she didn’t want Sandalphon to hurt me.”

Castiel nods, not ready to believe that Penemue could have been good to his child. After all, she did stab her to death.

“Castiel, I think you should know that the child now appears to be different,” Sariel says after a little while, looking at Beth with a confused look on his face.

“How so?” he replies, afraid that his child might be possessed, that she wouldn’t be Beth anymore.

“Her soul looks different. Before Penemue took her, it had this strong golden shimmer, but now her soul seems to be rather… normal.”

“Human souls are never gold,” comments Castiel, looking at the child’s face intently.

It’s only when Beth locks her eyes onto her father’s that he can see the difference Sariel is referring to. The child’s eyes had always been this particular light shade of amber, so bright they would look like shiny gold nuggets when the sun hit them just right. And now, if her eyes are still an interesting colour, they are much darker, taking more after maple syrup than honey.

“I believe Penemue wasn’t trying to kill her, Castiel,” Orifiel starts as he sits on the second bed, knowing this to be sensitive subject. “She used some kind of wooden stake. If she had wanted to kill her, she would have used her blade.”

Castiel doesn’t answer, mostly because he knows Orifiel must be right. But when he heard Beth scream the way she did, it was as if all common sense had fled his mind and the only thing he thought of doing was to take revenge on the angel. Still, even knowing all that, there’s a little part of him that could never regret killing his sister for the sole reason that she had hurt his daughter.

“I think she wanted—”

Charlie, Castiel and Beth are suddenly alone in the room, Orifiel and Sariel having disappeared without so much of a goodbye. The two adults immediately understand, looking at each other with mist in their eyes. Dean has reached Heaven and it is now open again.

“Does this mean Daddy is in Heaven now?” Beth asks Castiel, her now deep amber eyes wide with innocence.

“Yes, Beth. Daddy’s in Heaven. But you know he should be coming back, right?”

“I know,” she replies, getting off her father’s lap. “I’m hungry,” she then says, making Charlie huff a small laugh.

“Is pizza okay for you guys?” the redhead asks, brandishing one of the delivery menus she found on the end table.

“Order anything you want, it will be perfect,” Castiel says, getting up to stand at the window and look outside, eager to see the cruiser drive in the parking lot. “Should I try to call them? See where they are?”

“If anything happens, they’ll call. Give them some time,” provides Charlie as she grabs the phone to order their meal. “I’ll ask for two large, Sam and Jody will probably be hungry when they get here.”

_~ ◊ ~_

Even without Sandalphon to keep an eye on the ongoing battle, the angels know what they have to do and they are doing it, slicing and dicing every demon they see, when they’re not just blasting them out of existence with a simple touch of their hand.

They felt it when their leader died but they were all too far from him and too entangled in the ongoing battle to even think about leaving and try to know what might have happened. All they can do now is follow the orders their late brother has given them and win the war in his name.

From further away – much further away – Crowley is looking at his kind being decimated. They are fighting hard, but the angels have many advantages and they know it. At least, his demons have been smart enough to start grabbing the angels’ weapons and use them against their owners. They are still outnumbered, but they’re certainly not willing to give the little birdies any ground.

And of course, the King of Hell is furious. He doesn’t want to have to fight this war, there’s nothing in it for him. He has no need for the sodding Oracle so there’s no point in all of this. Abaddon is dead and if the bloody angels could just go back to where they came from, he’d be the happiest little demon on Earth… or in Hell, whatever.

If the Winchesters are half the men they claim to be, they should be able to achieve that. And when that’s taken care of, the only thing left on Crowley’s bucket list will be for the Winchesters to be dead already and let him do his damn job. He can only hope they’ll be going upstairs though. He can’t fathom the idea of having to spend eternity with them as hellmates. Even though torturing them could prove to be interesting enough.

That’s when more than half of the feuding bodies disappear, leaving only the demons to stab at nothing and look around the field, dumbfounded.

“Well, well! There’s another item to cross off my list,” Crowley grins, making his way home to have a little chit-chat with the remainder of Hell’s population. Maybe he’ll be getting his happy ending after all.

~ ◊ ~

When Jody parks the cruiser next to the Impala, she is just about to faint she’s so exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She goes to open the room’s door and holds it open for Sam so he can bring his brother inside. Dean isn’t even on the bed yet before Castiel comes barging into the room, letting out a pained gasp when he sees the lifeless body of his lover on the bedspread.

“You can’t put him there. It’s filthy,” is all he can say, remembering the hunter’s gripe about motel beddings.

“Cas, it’s all right. This is a nice place,” Jody tries to explain but she does nothing to stop him from taking the bedspread off the second bed and transferring the hunter’s wrapped body on it.

When Castiel is satisfied with Dean’s position on the bed, he unwraps the blanket that’s concealing him. He’s shocked by how pale the hunter looks already, as if ashes had been rubbed all over his face. His beautiful lips are even starting to turn a little blue. He still can’t resist kissing them, resting his hand on the cold skin of his face.

“I’d appreciate it if you could leave us alone,” Castiel tells Sam and Jody without looking at them.

“Cas, I don’t know that—” starts Sam, a nervous tinge in his voice.

“Sam, your brother has soiled himself when he died. I need to clean him up. I don’t think you will want to assist,” Castiel explains, keeping his eyes on Dean.

“He’s coming back, Cas,” counters Sam, not sure they should be touching the body.

“I think he will appreciate coming back to a clean body then.”

“He’s right. Come on, Sam. Let’s go sleep a little, okay? There’s nothing else we can do right now,” Jody tries to convince her boyfriend, pulling him gently towards the door.

“Okay. Just be careful with him, all right?” Sam feels the need to say. He wishes he could stay to watch over his brother but he knows it’s not his place. Not anymore.

“I will,” Castiel promises before disappearing into the bathroom. His friends give a last mournful look at Dean as they leave the room to go meet up with Charlie and Beth.

~ ◊ ~

After a long and boring ride towards Heaven, Dean finds himself sitting in his Baby once more. Just like that other time, and probably like every other time he had died. As much as he’d love to just start the car and drive, eager to get to his destination, Dean takes a minute to recite the spell Tessa had given him. He doesn’t understand why he has to do this himself but it certainly isn’t the first time he’s done weird or illogical stuff.

Once he’s done saying the words, nothing happens, which kind of mystifies him. He was expecting flashes of light, angels appearing everywhere around him, something. So of course, he has to wonder if anything happened at all, if the doors are have opened. Just to be sure, he recites the words once more, his senses on alert, but nothing more happens. He recites them a third time and when he sees no change in his surroundings, Dean figures it’s time to start his Baby up and drive forward.

He sees it all again; Sammy and him in that field on July 4th, 1996; Mom cutting the crust off his PB & J, but then he doesn’t get to see any of Sam’s souvenirs. Instead he gets to relive that Christmas when Sam gave him the amulet he was to give their father, playing catch with Bobby, his first kiss with Robin at Sonny’s, a nice afternoon he spent in bed with Cassie, a hunt free weekend he and Sam spent ogling the bikini babes in Myrtle Beach, and the county fair he went to with Lisa and Ben.

All things considered, he’s had some pretty good times, but the best was yet to come as he is now entering the most recent of his greatest hits. Surprisingly, or not, it isn’t about sex at all but he still recognizes it as one of the best moments in his life, even though back then he didn’t know it.

He’s in his car, parked in the bunker’s garage, when he and Cas had just brought Beth home. Of course, at the time he considered it to be all about business. But even his subconscious knew it meant way more than that. Now that he’s revisiting the moment in Heaven, he understands how it had been a defining one.

Cas is sleeping next to him, his head on one of Beth’s raspberry pillows, looking all kinds of delicious. He’d love to just grab him and make him his right then and there but he knows it’s impossible as this is only a memory. Plus, there’s still a child in the backseat. A memory too, but still disconcerting.

As for Beth, she’s just as beautiful as ever, her soft hair flowing like caramel strands on her own dark pink pillow, buried under her polka dot blanket. He loves that kid. He loved her then, without even knowing it, and he loves her even more now.

That’s when it hits him. This is his true Heaven. Cas and Beth are what he’s been running towards his whole life. He once thought he’d be sharing his Heaven with his brother since they were always joined at the hip. He even thought he’d find a way to hunt in Heaven because that’s all he knew. But he now feels he deserves his own apple pie afterlife, just like his brother deserves his own, would it be with Jess or Jody or whoever his heart desires.

He isn’t sitting in the Impala he realises. Instead, he’s waking up in a soft bed with a very palpable and awake Castiel who’s sucking at his neck.

“Good morning,” a giggling Beth squeals as she runs into the room and jumps on the bed to join her fathers.

~ ◊ ~

“I know you can’t hear me, but I will talk anyway,” starts Castiel, undressing Dean carefully.

Whenever he takes off one piece of clothing, and luckily Dean didn’t have that much on when he was kidnapped, Castiel throws it on the blanket that he took off his lover and lay down on the floor.

“You’re pretty rigid,” Castiel notes in a sad voice. “It is sort of a blessing that I’m not an angel anymore or else I might have broken your limbs by accident you’re so difficult to manipulate. I would like to think it is the body’s response to its soul abandoning it.”

When Dean is naked on the bed, Castiel takes the washcloth from the ice bucket he had filled with warm water and a bit of soap, wringing it so it wouldn’t be dripping wet.

“I’ll start with your face. That’s what you told me we should always do, right? While the cloth is still fresh and clean,” he comments, softly ridding the freckled skin of the dust and grime it had accumulated in the hole Dean had been held in. When that’s done, he dips and wrings the cloth again in the soapy water.

“I am so sorry you had to go through this, Dean. If I had listened to you last year, or even before that, all of this would have never happened. But then again, we wouldn’t have gotten Beth either. Only for this I don’t think I could ever regret losing my grace to Metatron. But I would regret it ever so deeply if it made me lose you,” he continues, not minding the occasional tear that falls on the hunter’s skin.

“I wonder if I’ll be in your Heaven. Or if Beth will be. I know Sam is your true soul mate so that’s okay. I won’t be jealous or anything. I just know that you and Beth would be in my Heaven. Actually, you _are_ my Heaven. You’re my home away from home.”

Castiel rinses the cloth again, dipping it repeatedly in the bucket, the sluicing sound of the water the only thing he can hear besides his own breathing. He realises just now how Dean’s breathing could be enough to fill a room. Because now, even with him there, it feels very much empty.

Swallowing loudly, he takes back the cloth and starts washing Dean’s legs, averting his eyes from the groin area. He’s not worried about being inappropriate, far from it, but he thinks it’s only proper not to leer at his dead boyfriend’s crotch while he’s washing him clean.

“I don’t think Beth is an Oracle anymore. If that’s the case, I think it is the best news I could have gotten today. Unless you come back to me,” Castiel adds in a trembling voice. “Then that’d be two pieces of good news in one day,” he concludes, dropping the cloth in the bucket. “I’ll be right back,” he announces, grabbing the bucket and going back to the bathroom.

He takes the cloth out and dumps the water in the bath, turning on the faucet to fill the ice bucket again. While the water gets to the right temperature, he rinses the bucket and the cloth thoroughly. He takes the small complimentary bottle of body wash and squeezes a little bit of the soap in the bucket. Shaking his head, he changes his mind and dumps the bucket again, rinsing it off.

When he comes back into the bedroom, he’s got clean warm water with a new cloth. He’s also holding the old cloth, damp with soapy water. He’s glad to have remembered he should be rinsing the soap off of Dean’s body, otherwise it would have itched like crazy when he came back. And Castiel could attest to that by experience alone.

He takes the soapy cloth and uses it on his lover’s private parts, smiling against his will when thinking of the things the hunter would have to say if he could see him right now. He’s done with the washing pretty quickly and starts rinsing the flesh with the unsullied water.

“I didn’t think of bringing clothes for you, I don’t know why. But I’ll lend you my pyjama pants. They were once yours, after all. I’m afraid I don’t have a second pair of underwear for you though. But I know for a fact that you don’t mind that,” Castiel says again, finishing his ministrations by dabbing a towel softly all over the hunter’s damp skin.

“I’ll go take a shower myself now,” the former angel starts after pulling up the pants on Dean and covering him with the motel’s blanket. “I don’t feel right lying beside you all dirty while you’re nice and clean. I’ll be back,” he says again, kissing Dean’s forehead.

As soon as he’s under the hot shower’s stream, Castiel’s nerves get the better of him and that’s when he lets it all go. He’s not crying. He’s sobbing, gasping for air, a hand clenched over his heart as if trying to reach in and pet it because it hurts so much. He tries to stay upright, weakly using his other hand and forehead as anchors on the tiles of the bathroom wall. Yet, he can’t and lets his knees buckle, falling down to kneel at the bottom of the bathtub.

Even though he would love to scream at the top of his lungs, he can’t. So he curses at everyone and everything in his own mind. He curses at God, at Metatron, at the angels, the demons, Sam, Dean, himself… but mostly himself and his cursed humanity. He wonders how humans can endure such pain. How they can go on living when it feels like Hell fires are burning holes inside their body. And he curses the fact that he is still rational enough to know that he is unable to think rationally.

He lingers under the warm rain of the shower until he feels calm enough, until the jitters in his body have eased off. He grabs the tiny soap bottle and empties it in his hand to wash himself, doing so while on his knees, his legs still feeling a bit weak. He’s shutting the water off when he hears a knock on the bathroom’s door. He gets up in a jolt, thinking the hunter might have come back already.

“Cas? Are you all right?” Charlie asks in a small voice.

“Yes, I’m fine, Charlie,” he answers, crestfallen, before getting out of the bathtub and drying himself.

“Beth was wondering if she could come—”

“No! She can’t see him like that,” Castiel spits through the door.

“He’s her dad, Cas. Believe me when I tell you that she’ll never get over it if she doesn’t see him and he never comes back.”

“He _is_ coming back,” Castiel growls as he opens the door, only wearing a clean pair of boxers. “I know what you’re saying but… I’d rather she didn’t have an image of her dead dad when he does come back,” he explains, in a less menacing tone.

“But—”

“If he’s not to come back, she will get to see him. But not until I’m certain.”

~ ◊ ~

“Sammy?” Beth calls in a soft voice, sitting on the bed with a new colouring book on her lap.

“Yeah, sweetie?” he answers in a low voice too, not wanting to wake Jody.

“Where am I gonna go now?”

Sam, being half asleep, isn’t sure he understands the question but her tone seems serious enough to entail his full attention.

“What do you mean, Beth?” he asks after getting off the bed he shares with the sheriff to come sit with the girl.

“I can’t feel the Oracle, it’s gone. So, demons and angels don’t need me anymore, right?” she explains, but it’s still not enough for Sam to understand her initial question.

“You’re right, they shouldn’t want you anymore. But they’re still dangerous, we’ll always have to be careful.”

“Even when I’m gone?” Beth asks again, her attention on the drawing in her lap but she has stopped working on it.

“What do mean, gone? As soon as Dean is… as soon as he comes back, we’re going back home.”

“I can’t go back to Mama Patty and Mama Kay, they’re dead,” the girl sputters after a while, turning to look at the hunter with teary eyes.

“Of course not. Why would you go back there? Even if they were still alive, you wouldn’t go back, sweetie.”

“But I don’t need protection anymore…” she insists with a trembling voice.

“Oh, Beth…” Sam breathes, finally understanding what kind of idea might have been plaguing his niece’s brain. “We’re your family now, you’ll never have to go anywhere. Dean and Cas adopted you and that’s forever.”

“But it wasn’t for real.”

“Their love for you is real, even if the papers aren’t. And not just them, we all love you so very much, even Jody and Charlie. We don’t want you to go away. Ever,” Sam tries to reassure the girl, taking her in his arms. “All we care about is you, not the Oracle.”

“But now I can’t say what’s going to happen. I can’t see when you’re in danger.”

“That’s how it was before you came into our lives, and it worked fine. But you know who might be the best person to talk to about all this?”

Beth shakes her head, her stare focused and her nose running, which she wipes on her sleeve. Before answering his own question, Sam grabs a tissue to wipe the child’s nose.

“You know that Cas was an angel before, right?”

Beth nods but stays silent.

“He had great powers, like, he could heal people. He also had wings, even though we never saw them, but he could fly. And then Metatron stole his grace and he became human. Does that remind you of anyone else we know?”

“Me? Because I don’t have my power anymore?”

“Exactly. I had powers too before, but they were evil so I’m glad they’re gone. But Cas, he had good powers. If you’re scared or feel weird because the Oracle is gone, your dad will be the best person to talk to. The same thing kinda happened to him.”

For a moment, the girl stays silent, resting her head right over Sam’s heart. He’s hoping that she’s understanding what it is he’s trying to say. Even more important, he wishes she believes how much of a Winchester she is, how there’s no going back from that. Hell, she even died… if that isn’t proof enough!

“I love you, Sammy,” Beth tells her uncle, a little smile on her lips.

“I love you too, Sweetie.”

~ ◊ ~

“I’m so scared he won’t come back, Charlie,” Castiel tells the redhead in a low voice.

They are sitting cross-legged on the empty bed next to Dean’s, sharing the second of the cheap bottles of wine Charlie had bought at a nearby store.

“He will. The angels will do all they can to bring him back, I’m sure,” she answers before taking a long pull right from the bottle.

“Your faith astounds me, Charlie. How come I feel like all my beliefs have deserted me?”

“Yeah… depression might do that to you. Don’t worry, I have faith for the both of us, okay?” she promises with a nod.

“I get why Dean loves you so much. You are quite extraordinary,” Castiel tells his new friend before taking a huge gulp of wine.

“Well, I am a fun gal, but you might be getting a bit drunk too,” she giggles, taking the bottle back from him.

“I really mean it, Charlie, I do,” he insists solemnly, patting her knee. “You’re like a female Dean,” he adds with a lazy smile.

“That was true until he got with you,” the redhead says with a soft laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t… I’m a lesbian, Cas. I only date girls. That’s another thing Dean and I had in common,” she laughs again, a little louder now.

“What do you have against men?”

“Nothing. I’m just not attracted to them,” she shrugs, taking another sip from the wine bottle.

“I wonder why humans would choose to limit themselves in such a way.”

“Okay, I’ll be nice to you only because you’re like a baby human, but listen carefully, all right?” Charlie tells her friend, giving him the most serious look she can muster while intoxicated. “We don’t _choose_ , and liking only one sex doesn’t mean we _limit_ ourselves. It’s just how every person feels and their preferences. Believe me, people like us are lucky we’re not being stoned to death in the street,” she warns him, pointing a menacing finger somewhere around his face.

Castiel just nods, worried he might have upset her.

“Maybe if I had the choice I’d choose to be attracted to anyone regardless of their gender, but that’s just not how it is. It’s like you. You like men, right?” she adds, giving him the bottle.

“I like… I love Dean. Dean could have been a woman, and I would have loved her all the same. I fell in love with his soul which has nothing to do with his body.”

“Oh, so you don’t care about his body?” Charlie asks with a smirk.

“Well, being a human now, I have to admit that his body feels good against mine. I just wish we had consummated our love before he left. It might not be—”

“Wait a second,” Charlie exclaims, her eyes like saucers. “Are you telling me you guys never… frick-fracked?”

“I guess you mean made love and, while we had… intimate encounters… we never experimented with penile penetration. Not yet.”

“Penile… That’s just… whatever! We’re talking about Dean Winchester here, right?”

“Of course, Charlie. Who else?”

“But… he’s a slut,” she sputters before wincing and shaking her head. “No, what I mean is… I love the guy, but I’m pretty sure he’s not the type of guy who _waits_ , you know?”

“I have wondered why it hasn’t happened yet. We kissed, gave each other oral—”

“Come on, man. No need for details, all right? Stick to the basics,” Charlie yelps with a shudder.

“I apologize. So, we did many things but we never got to _that_. The only time we ever came close to trying, let’s just say it didn’t go so well…”

“Who was to be t… Nope, sorry, don’t answer that, I didn’t mean it,” Charlie stammers, her face suddenly aflame.

“We should have been making love instead of fighting before all this happened. But I was so mad…”

“I know Cas, but don’t worry, he’s coming back. Then you’ll be making all the love you want, all right?”

“I hope you’re right,” Castiel nods, turning to look a the corpse on the other bed.

~ ◊ ~

“Sam, it’s been two days. I think we should just go back,” Jody says in a low voice to her boyfriend.

They are sitting side by side on the empty bed, next to where Dean is resting. They had been able to convince Cas to go spend some time with Beth, promising they would watch over the hunter.

“Don’t you think he’d rather wake up in his bed than in some generic motel room?” she adds, seeing as Sam isn’t answering. “I don’t mind driving, babe. I just don’t believe there’s any reason for us to stay here.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Sam answers, keeping his eyes on his brother.

“Come on, Sam. It has nothing to do with the money, you know that,” she reassures him. “I might not be an expert at this stuff like you guys, but I’m pretty sure he’ll find his body when he’s ready to come back. Even if we’re on the road.”

“I know that, it’s just… I don’t know anymore.”

“You’re tired, you’re nervous, and you’re mourning your brother. Even if he’s supposed to come back, right now he’s… anyway, like I said, I don’t mind driving.”

“I think Cas might want to bring him in the Impala,” is Sam’s only answer.

“Is this why you wanna stay here? Because you know it should be Cas that’ll drive him back home?”

Again, Sam doesn’t answer but gives Jody a little shrug. Then he shakes his head and huffs a laugh.

“That’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. If Dean was here he’d call me a whiny little bitch, or Samantha, and tell me to stop being such a sensitive girl,” Sam tries to smiles, tears spilling from his eyes. “So what if he makes the drive back with Cas, right? Plus, it’s the Impala so he wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Jody is pretty sure Sam is not actually waiting for her to answer that for him so she waits, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“You’re right, lets just go back home, there’s no reason to stay here,” Sam concludes after a little while, wiping the tears from his face.

“Okay. I’ll go tell the others,” she agrees, kissing his temple before leaving the room.

Sam stays alone with Dean who’s been dressed in his clothes again, Charlie having washed them at the motel’s laundromat. He grabs the cruiser’s blanket and wraps it around his brother again, his heart just as heavy as when he did it the first time.

“Hello, Sam,” is all Castiel says when he comes in the room. He sends the hunter a tired gaze and goes around the bed to take Dean in his arms.

“Do you need—” Sam starts to say, mainly because he kind of needs to say something. He knows Cas is more than capable of handling his brother’s (dead) weight.

“Thank you, Sam. I’m all right. If you could just hold the door please.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Nothing more is said and within thirty minutes, both cars are back on the road. Sam and Jody are in the cruiser with Beth, while Castiel and Charlie are back in the Impala with a less stiff, but smelly, Dean in the backseat.

“Is this normal, Cas? He’s like… decomposing back there, isn’t he?” Charlie dares to ask after a couple of hours on the interstate.

“Yes, it is normal. When his soul will be put back in his body, he will be healed.”

“But… zombies don’t heal,” she comments and regrets the words the second they escape her mouth, even before Cas has time to send her an excellent version of what would be Sam’s ultimate bitchface.

“Dean will not be a zombie,” Castiel gripes after turning his attention back on the road. “When I put his soul back in his body after raising him from perdition, he had been dead for four months, Charlie. You didn’t know him then, but I assure you he came back good as new. Better even. He had no more scars…”

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just… it kind of freaks me out to be riding along my friend’s dead body,” she explains with a sigh.

“Would you prefer to drive back with Sam, Jody and Beth instead? Or switch with Sam maybe? He might appreciate being with his brother.”

“I won’t leave you alone. But if Sam wants to switch—”

“Call them up, see what he’d like to do. We could stop as soon as we find a suitable place to do so.”

“Thank you, Cas. I’m sorry, it’s just so bizarre.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Sam might even be glad to be asked to ride along actually. I should have thought about that before,” Castiel confides, shaking his head softly.

As expected, Sam is appreciative and jumps on the offer, suggesting they make the switch in Battle Mountain, NV. From then on, they only stop where they had stopped on their way into Reno: Salt Lake City and Cheyenne. The ride is pretty smooth in the women’s car but in the men’s, and even with the windows open to get rid of the rotting corpse’s smell, the air is immensely thick.

They don’t speak because all they can think of saying has to do with Dean. And as long as he’s deceased and his coming back is uncertain, they’d rather not say a word. They don’t want to remember the past as if he was dead for good. And they don’t want to imagine the future as if he was coming back for sure either.

All they can do is drive and hope.

On the third day of Dean being dead, they’re back in Lebanon and the hunter is laid down on his bed.

He’s rarely alone. Often it’s Castiel who’s watching over him, arguing that it is his God given duty. Other times it’s Sam, expressing the need to look over his brother as he had done for him his whole life. Sometimes they do this together in shared silence, like they had in the car.

On the fourth day, after a heart-wrenching plea, Castiel authorizes Beth to come and sit in the room with her father. Even though the smell is overwhelming, all the girl does is scrunch up her nose and she doesn’t complain, taking Dean’s hand in hers.

On the fifth day, Jody has had to leave for Sioux Falls, promising Sam she’ll be back as soon as possible. And because of the stench that emanates from Dean’s body, his door remains closed with nobody able to visit him.

On the sixth day, thanks to his newly healed wings, Sariel appears in the bunker to tell them they are looking for Dean’s soul without respite. The angel is able to bring Dean’s body back to a fresher state and to still his wasting away. All he asks of them in return is to be patient.

On the seventh day, nothing new happens but at least they can be in the room with him.

Nothing more happens on the eighth, or on the ninth.

As time goes by, they do the only thing they can do.

They wait…

~ ◊ ~

“Daddy, I want pancakes. Chocolate chips pancakes,” Beth asks Dean with a huge smile.

“That’s all you ever want. Wouldn’t you like spaghettis instead?” Dean replies with his head buried in the fridge.

“No daddy, that’s not breakfast.”

“Oh, I understand. Then what about fried chicken?” Castiel tries to help, going around Dean to take a look in the fridge as well.

“Noooo,” the girl laughs, scrunching her nose at the thought. “Chicken is a yucky breakfast. I need pancakes.”

“You know what, Cas? I think Beth is right, chicken’s no good for breakfast.”

“What do you propose we do then?”

Instead of answering out loud, Dean leans in and speaks in his lover’s ear, keeping an amused eye on their daughter. When Castiel laughs and nods, it has an immediate effect.

“That’s not fair,” Beth pouts. “You can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Of course we can, we’re your fathers,” Dean counters with a wink.

“Can I have secrets?” she asks, tilting her head and squinting her eyes in that way that’s so much like Cas.

Dean appears to be thinking for a minute then he points at her before just saying “No!”

“Dean, be nice,” Castiel chides him, rummaging through the fridge. “So, who wants pancakes?”

“I do,” both Dean and Beth reply with a laugh.

The doorbell rings at that moment, startling everyone in the room.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Dean asks Castiel, eyeing the door as if he had never seen it before.

“No… Are you?”

“Nope! It must be Sam,” Dean supposes, walking to the window to take a peek at who could be at their door this early on a Sunday morning.

“It’s a big black dude. Do you know a big black dude?” he whispers, quite loudly still.

“No, I do not know a massive dark skinned man, Dean,” replies Castiel, annoyed by Dean’s lack of political correctness.

“Wanna bet he wants to sell us something?” Dean foretells when the doorbell rings once more. “I’ll get rid of him real quick,” he says before opening the door. “Yeah, can I help you?” he asks the man on the porch in such a tone the stranger should understand right away that he’s not welcome.

“Hello, Dean. You might not remember me. My name is Orifiel and I am here to bring you back home,” the angel says before sending his glowing palm to Dean’s forehead.


	23. Epilogue

“Can you guess what’s in this one?” Castiel asks Beth, handing her a rectangular box wrapped in pink paper.

The soon to be eight-years-old grabs the gift from her father’s hands and shakes it, hoping to hear something rattle or tinkle.

“Be careful Beth, you don’t wanna kill it,” Sam tells her in false alarm.

Startled, she stops shaking the box and gives it a suspicious look over. She soon decides it is much too thin to be containing any living creature.

“You’re joking,” she replies with a hint of a smile. “There can’t be a pet in that box. Plus, there’s no hole, it couldn’t breathe.”

“A snake could fit in that box,” Sam argues, taking a sip of his beer.

“I don’t want a snake,” pouts the birthday girl, putting the box down on the table and pushing it away.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart, he’s only being an old meanie. I promise it’s not a snake,” Jody reassures the girl, coming to stand beside her husband. “You leave my niece alone, today’s her special day,” she adds, punching him high on the arm.

“Don’t make me call the cops on you,” Sam menaces, rubbing at his arm.

“Oh babe, you always seem to forget that _I am_ the cops. I own your ass,” she laughs, grabbing a handful of said anatomy. 

“Come on Beth, open it,” Castiel presses his daughter, pushing the pink box back towards her.

She grabs it again with a wide grin, destroying the wrapping paper. While Cas tries to grab all the pieces to put them in the garbage bag, he can hear her squeal in delight. And he’s convinced she doesn’t even know what’s inside the Hello Kitty pouch she’s mooning over.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love Hello Kitty,” she chants, ecstatic.

“We know, but wait, the real gift is inside,” Sam explains.

“It is?” the girl asks, fondling with the thick rubbery fabric to find the zipper and slide it open. “A computer? For me?” she squeals again, pulling the laptop out of the sleeve.

“Yeah, you now have your own computer, sweetie. You won’t need to ask your dads for theirs anymore,” Sam confirms, glad to see her liking the gift.

“Daddy doesn’t want me to take his computer,” Beth mutters in a low voice, but everyone still hears her. They choose not to comment on it. It’s better that she doesn’t know why Dean’s computer would be off limits. His even more than anyone else’s.

“Who wants birthday pie?” hollers Dean, coming out of his and Castiel’s home through the kitchen’s sliding glass door.

“Me,” Beth replies, putting back her new computer in its sleeve.

“I can’t believe you made pie instead of cake,” comments Jody with a sigh when Dean gets to the patio table with the dessert and disposable covers.

“What can I tell you? She truly is Daddy’s girl,” he replies, winking at his daughter.

“Well, if my current nausea is anything to go by, you’ll have to bake cakes for your future niece or nephew,” Jody quips, rubbing her already showing thirteen-week belly.

“If anyone was to wonder, that would be a clear proof that I can’t be the father,” Dean huffs, offended at the thought of anyone being nauseated by pie.

“She’s my wife, you jerk. Why would someone wonder about that? Plus, you’re gay,” Sam grouses, poking at his brother with a plastic fork.

“Hold on there, bitch! First off, I’m not gay,” Dean corrects him, trying to swat the poking fork away from him. “I’m just highly Cas-sexual. Meaning no Cas, no… you know…” he tries to explain without much details, vaguely gesturing towards his boyfriend’s crotch. “And also, I’m much prettier than you so, you know… there’s a reason to wonder right there,” Dean concludes, satisfied with himself.

“You do realise you just called yourself pretty, right?” is Sam’s only retort, not interested in starting a lengthy conversation about another one of his brother’s sexual theories.

“Shut up!”

“What’s Cas-sexual?” Beth asks between bites of her blueberry pie.

“It’s just some dumb word your Daddy invented,” Castiel replies, glaring at his boyfriend.

“Only because I love your Daddy so very much,” Dean explains, sending a seductive smile to his partner.

“You guys are making me sick,” Jody teases the men, before hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Literally sick…” she mutters before running inside.

~ ◊ ~

The house is quiet, Sam and Jody have gone home and Beth is asleep. In their bedroom, Dean and Castiel are lying on the bed in each other’s arms, exchanging lazy kisses and slow caresses. The day has been a long one and they are now just happy to lay low and enjoy one another.

“It sucks that Charlie couldn’t make it,” Dean says in a low voice, his breath warm on Castiel’s cheek.

“She’ll be here next weekend. She wants to bring Beth to see a movie for her birthday.”

“That’s nice…”

“Garth would have been here too but he had to help some of the kids on a hunt.”

“Is everyone all right? Krissy—”

“It wasn’t Krissy, and everyone’s okay. They had to deal with some of Garth’s old pack.”

“They killed them, right?”

“Yes. Sadly, all werewolves can’t be like Garth.”

“Still, if he ever strays—”

“I know. And everyone in the bunker knows. Even Garth knows,” Castiel tells him in a soothing voice, knowing that having to kill Garth would definitely break Dean’s heart.

Dean only nods, putting a hand under his head, prompting Castiel to lay his head on his chest.

“Do you ever miss it?” Castiel asks after a while.

“Miss what?”

“The bunker.”

“All I miss from the bunker is how convenient it was… and safe. But our home is safe too. Plus, we get some natural lighting, which you look amazing in,” Dean teases Castiel, kissing the top of his head.

“It was my first home, our first home. I still miss it sometimes.”

“What you miss is the library.”

“Yeah… I really do,” Castiel agrees with a soft laugh.

“I wonder how you ended up loving me instead of my brother. You guys are exactly the same; two big nerds.”

“If me and your brother are exactly the same, as you put it, then what does that say about you loving me?” Castiel replies with a devilish grin.

“Never. Say. That. Again,” Dean growls, appalled.

“All right, I’m sorry,” Castiel apologizes with a small kiss on his boyfriend’s collarbone. “You know Sam won’t get to hunt as much once the baby arrives, right?” Castiel feels the need to say because he knows Dean might just decide to go and hunt alone.

“He can stop, he knows that.”

“He won’t stop if you don’t,” Castiel explains. “And we don’t go together anymore. He doesn’t want you out there alone, and neither do I.”

“Let’s not talk shop, okay? We’ll just end up fighting again, Cas. And I’d rather be spooning you,” Dean pleads.

Castiel let’s out a throaty laugh and turns around, pressing their bodies together and grabbing the arm circling his waist.

“You won’t be able to avoid this talk forever, Dean,” Castiel warns him, basking in the warmth of his lover.

“I know,” murmurs Dean in Castiel’s ear. “But not tonight, all right?”

“All right… not tonight.”

~ ◊ ~

It will take numerous suffering talks, many fights, a regrettable break-up – which won’t last much more than a couple of days – and a somewhat botched marriage proposal for Dean and Castiel to come to a peaceful agreement on the subject of hunting.

Of course, they will never be able to entirely turn their backs on the supernatural world and its victims. But thanks to Krissy and many young hunters like her, as well as more experienced hunters still working all over the country, they will be able to make their participation much less active.

They will get the occasional call when something is happening close by, but they can live with that. 

They will be consulted about some monsters they’ve hunted before, but they can also live with that. 

But mostly, they might finally be able to just live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it… the end… after so many months, it’s finally there.
> 
> As you probably know, I own nothing safe for the main idea… I guess… the rest is all Kripke’s universe and I’ll be eternally grateful to be able to play around with his magnificent characters!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the ride!! Thank you for reading… and/or liking and commenting!! xx


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